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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



Copyrighted 1920, By 
CHARLES F. CLARKE 



AUG -3 I92U 



The Story of An American 



Dedicated to the Memory of 
THEODORE ROOSEVELT 



BY CHARLES F. CLARKE 



^1*6 



C* 



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GI.A571950 



INTRODUCTION. 

^^HIS IS THE STORY of an American. But it also 
^^ deals with a great many other subjects and things. 
In one sense it is no story at all, but is a rambling, 
disconnected series of essays and observations and ser- 
mons. I say "sermons" and the term is correctly used, 
for the story, or whatever it may be called, deals pri- 
marily with religion. I say "primarily" and I believe that 
is correct, though many other subjects are discussed and 
analyzed. Though the story deals primarily with religion 
and with kindred subjects, it also deals with men, and the 
men discussed and analyzed are Theodore Roosevelt and 
Woodrow Wilson. You will see, or have already seen, 
that I have dedicated the story to Theodore Roosevelt. 
Of course, therefore, in the discussion and analysis of 
Roosevelt and Wilson, I favor Roosevelt. I have at- 
tempted in the pages that follow, to preach Americanism 
and I have discussed the League of Nations and its bear- 
ing on Americanism, and I have attempted also to pro- 
nounce a eulogy upon Mr. Roosevelt. Mr. Wilson is not 
to my liking at all and Mr. Roosevelt was my beau ideal. 
We are inestimably poorer for his having gone, and to 
contribute somewhat, (if possible) toward keeping his 
memory alive and to contribute somewhat, if possible, 
even if but to an infinitesimal degree toward keeping the 
principles for which he stood before the American people 
today, I have written this story. 

5 



But as I have said, the story rambles all over creation 
(literally) and deals with many subjects, of which per- 
haps religion is the primary one. And in the discussion 
of religion I have even discussed Christian Science, think- 
ing that in its great effort to suddenly abolish disease and 
all the bodily ills which flesh is heir to that there is a cer- 
tain analogy with the effort on the part of the League 
of Nations supporters to abolish war and the ills that 
governments are heir to. The analogy may be entirely 
fanciful and my attempt to show that it exists may have 
entirely failed, but in any event, I have made the at- 
tempt and I offer no further apology. 

I might explain a little further, however, by saying 
that I believe a little in some of the hopes held out by the 
Christian Scientists. That is, I believe that humanity 
will not always be doomed to the fate here on earth that 
has in the past ever been its lot. I believe that some- 
how, somewhere, sometime, there will be a getting away 
from the ills that flesh is heir to and I believe there will 
be such a getting away from them right here on earth. 
But the point which I try to make in the pages which fol- 
low is that the time when any such desired end will be 
realized in any substantial manner here on earth is so 
inconceivably remote as to be practically of no conse- 
quence at the present time. But the great faith of the 
Christian Scientists and their great enthusiasm for the 
new idea is to my mind of much the same nature as the 
faith and enthusiasm of the League of Nations suppor- 
ters. It is wonderful at first and is unqualified and in- 
spiring and then as time goes by it gradually and surely 
becomes disillusioned and slowly but also surely comes 
back to a realization of things as thev are. This idea I 



have attempted to carry out in the following story. The 
great faith of individuals and nations in a better order 
that is to come out of the chaos that exists to-day I have 
attempted to portray. And I have attempted to show 
that in this respect the affairs of individuals and nations 
are much the same. 

I have said that religion is the primary theme of my 
story, and that is true at least so far as the effort of 
humanity to get up to higher and better things may be 
termed a religious effort, is concerned. And I might add 
that I consider this effort of humanity the all-absorbing 
and the all-important thing in human affairs. How can 
we best make progress — how can we get away from war 
and pestilence and disease? These are the things that 
concern us all and that concern us vitally. 

In the leadership that we have had in America dur- 
ing the past decade, I have considered the Roosevelt 
leadership as best adapted to the problem of carrying 
the race of men on and up. I have indeed considered 
it a very wonderful leadership and I think that by all 
means all of us who believed in it should attempt so far 
as possible, to carry that leadership or rather the things 
for which it stood, on and up. Such is the purpose of 
this story, or of this narrative and collection of essays 
combined, or whatever else it may be called. 

The story is without literary merit for the reason 
that it is a combination of narratives, essays and orations. 
It is the story told as a personal narrative of an old man 
who has lived considerably beyond the allotted three 
score and ten, and who has lived his entire life upon the 
American continent and who has learned to passionately 
love America and the things for which America stands. 

7 



It is the story of an old friend and an old neighbor of 
mine with whom, in nearly all things both individual and 
national, I have always agreed, and whose life history 
and faith and philosophy and whose patriotism and de- 
votion to America and the ideals of Theodore Roosevelt 
I have attempted to describe in the pages that follow. I 
do not, of course, mean to say that he told me verbatim 
or even in substance, all of the things which I have writ- 
ten in the following story, for he did not. Some of the 
things which I have written I have learned from others 
than the old man himself. But I have attempted to tell 
his life story substantially as I have learned it from him- 
self and from others and I have attempted in what I 
have written to convey his meaning and to tell of the ob- 
servations made by him on present day problems and 
aifairs even though I use language that he never em- 
ployed. His faith, his ideals, his beliefs and his enthu- 
siasm are the things which 1 have attempted to make 
plain. 

In conversing with me, the old gentleman frequently 
read chapters from his favorite authors to illustrate his 
meaning, and frequently quoted poetry to convey his 
thought, and in the story that follows I have done the 
same. This, in the method which I have employed, I 
have suggested does violence to all literary rules but if I 
can nevertheless contribute something to the cause of 
Americanism and the things for which Theodore Roose- 
velt stood, I shall be happy. With the hope that I may 
indeed contribute something to this cause, the following 
pages are submitted. 



CHAPTER I. 

XCAME to Iowa from New York in 1856, and the cir- 
cumstance of my coming was one of which I am 
not very proud. It was, however, something which 
was no fault of mine, and which I could have in no way 
avoided. 

After going through the usual course of schooling as 
a boy, I enrolled as a student in Yale College. There I 
took up the study of law, and pursued that course of 
study until the happening of which I am to tell you. 
There also I became acquainted with two young fellows 
from the State of Virginia, one by the name of Lee, and 
the other by the name of Allen. They came from that 
part of the state which is now West Virginia. Lee was 
a dashing young fellow, of fine physique and appear- 
ance, and Allen was a fine fellow, though not so striking 
in his physical make-up. I suppose that I might as well 
say at the outset, that the trouble which I got into arose 
over the fact that this man Lee and I were both inter- 
ested in the same young lady. The name of the young lady 
in question was Julia King. Her home, like mine, was in 
New York City. Her father had been a professor in Yale 
for a good many years previous to my going there, but at 
the time that I enrolled in the college, he was practicing 
law in New York City, having resigned his professorship. 
He was, however, desirous of having his daughter be- 
come acquainted with many of his friends associated 

9 



with the college, and much of her time while I was a 
student there was spent in the college town. Lee and I 
made her acquaintance about the same time, and Allen 
also became acquainted with her, though without mani- 
festing the particular interest in her that was manifested 
by myself and Lee. 

After having spent the first half of the year in college, 
I, in company with Allen and Lee, went to my home in 
New York City to spend the Christmas holidays. Allen 
was in truth a good friend of mine. I always enjoyed 
his friendship, and never doubted his sincerity. Lee 
professed great friendship, but I always felt that there 
was something sinister in his make-up, and I never trusted 
him. However, much to my subsequent regret, I in- 
cluded him in the invitation to my home, and the holi- 
days found the three of us in the city. We had been 
there but a day or two until Lee's true character mani- 
fested itself. We were walking down one of the streets 
of the city when we came to a place where gambling 
was going on on the second floor of the building which 
we were approaching. Lee at once became very anxious 
to go upstairs and try his luck. Allen and I protested, 
but for some unaccountable reason, finally yielded to his 
request, and finally went to the gambling room. We 
spent some time there watching the changing fortunes 
of the gamblers. Lee engaged in a game of faro and 
after we had been there some time, changed his place at 
the table to the lookout's chair at the end of the tables. 
Much to my regret and surprise, Allen finally yielded to 
the request of some of the gamblers, and took his seat at 
one of the tables to take part in the game. I watched 
the game until I became tired of it and was becoming 

10 



very anxious to leave the place when I suddenly saw Lee 
pull a revolver from his pocket and shoot Allen in the 
top of the head, killing him instantly. Of course the 
room at once was in an uproar. I was standing near a 
stove which stood some few feet to the right of Lee's 
position in the lookout's chair. Behind the stove was a 
large iron poker and Lee had no sooner pulled the 
trigger than I brought the poker down on his arm and 
knocked the revolver from his hand. I suppose I was 
somewhat excited, and I know I was indignant as it was 
possible for anyone to be, and I picked up the revolver, 
and probably would have ended Lee's miserable life on 
the spot but for the fact that three policemen burst 
through the door and seized me just as I was about to 
fire the shot. Well, it of course did not need any words 
to explain that my position was an extremely awkward 
one. There I was in a gambling den with a dead man on 
the floor in front of me, and with a revolver in my hand 
in an attitude of attack, and with three policemen ap- 
pearing on the scene in time to see me in that attitude. 
I was of course taken into custody at once, and in a few 
days was indicted for murder. In due course of time 
the case came on for trial, and as I had expected, I found 
the chief witness for the State to be none other than 
Harry Lee. His story which explained in detail just how 
I had killed Allen, was corroborated in every detail by 
half a dozen other witnesses who were subpoenaed from 
those who were in the gambling room at the time. My 
counsel did the best he could, but he had no chance, and 
T was convicted and sentenced to the penitentiary for life. 
I was committed to the States Prison and was incar- 
cerated there for a year, when for some reason which I 

11 



never clearly understood, two or three persons came to 
my rescue. They were persons who had been in the 
gambling den at the time of the killing, and had pre- 
cipitately fled and the State was never able to get their 
names and use them as witnesses. They had seen the 
whole affair, however, and knew the truth of the matter, 
and at the end of a year's time, caused an investigation to 
be made and told the story exactly as it had occurred. 
The result was that so thorough an investigation was 
made that it became apparent to the Governor of the 
State that it was quite probable that a great injustice had 
been done. The Governor came to see me personally 
twice while I was in prison, and I felt that he really be- 
lieved that I was innocent. My belief was justified after 
a few months, for I received an unconditional pardon 
from the chief executive of the state. 

The result of this experience, however, caused me to 
become considerably soured upon the world in general. 
I went to my home in New York, and for some time con- 
sidered carefully the matter of returning to College. I 
decided, however, to stay in New York and study law in 
my father's office. After having done this until I felt 
that I could pass the examination for admission to the 
bar, I took the examination and was admitted. My prac- 
tice, however, did not amount to anything. Civilization 
had come to appear to me in a rather grewsome light. 
In my soul I was very bitter against society and a good 
deal of the time I actually hated human kind. This be- 
ing true, I was not in a fit frame of mind for successfully 
carrying on my profession. After a short time, I threw 
up the whole business and decided to go west. The insti- 
tutions of civilization and the crowds of people that 

12 



seemed to swarm and eddy about me constantly palled 
on my senses and I felt that I wanted to do nothing so 
much as to get completely and entirely away from all of 
them and everything connected with them. 

Of course in my mind's eye all of the time there arose 
the vision of Julia King. I had not heard from her since 
my leaving college for the Christmas holidays. I learned 
however, while I was in prison, that she had gone abroad, 
and at the time that I was released, I did not know 
whether she had returned or not. 

Another thing I suppose that caused me to desire to 
get away from business and society was the condition of 
my health. At the time that I entered college I was not 
very strong, and had little endurance and not a great 
deal of vitality. This of course was accentuated by the 
year spent in the States Prison. I think this, more than 
anything else, prevented me from finding out definitely 
whether Miss King had returned to this country or not, 
but without investigating the matter further, I packed up 
bag and baggage and left New York for the State of Iowa. 

In the town of Adel in that state, I had an uncle by 
the name of Frank Perkins, who had taken up his res- 
idence there two or three years before. He had been a 
California forty-niner and had crossed the plains at the 
time of the discovery of gold on the Pacific Coast. He 
had spent two or three years in the West seeking his 
fortune and having been reasonably successful, and 
having tired somewhat of the life of a prospector and 
miner, he had returned across the mountains, but instead 
of returning to his old home, he decided to settle down 
in central Iowa. His home was on the right bank of the 
North Raccoon River, about a quarter of a mile below 

13 



the little village which I have mentioned. His home pre- 
vious to going west had been in what is now the State of 
West Virginia. He had never married, but was a man 
approaching middle age when I set out to visit him in his 
home and to spend the summer or perhaps a year there. 

When I arrived at my uncle's home on the banks of 
the Raccoon River, I found the town of Adel to be a 
little village of a few straggling houses and stores. 
Hazel brush grew almost to the doors of the scattered 
dwelling houses, and the entire village had all the ap- 
pearances of a frontier settlement. The river at that 
time was much different at that point from what it is 
now. During the spring when the water was high, it 
generally extended from the bank of the river at the east 
edge of the village, a quarter of a mile or more to the 
eastward to the very foot of the line of hills on the east 
edge of the bottom land. In fact, at all seasons of the 
year except in the very dry ones, the river was much 
wider then than now. The greater part of the stream, 
however, which covered the bottom land to the east, was 
not deep, the main channel flowing close to the bank at 
the edge of the town. This main channel was some fifty 
or sixty yards in width, and was of considerable depth. 

The morning after my arrival at my uncle's home I 
was strolling along the banks of the river toward the 
little town. It was a delightful morning. All of the 
freshness of spring was in the air, and the sunlight shone 
and sparkled on the broad bosom of the river. Strolling 
along the river bank, amid such surroundings, exerted 
an uplifting influence upon me and filled me with a new 
inspiration and a new love of life. It made me feel 
strong just to contemplate the fresh primitive surround- 

14 



ings. I was accompanied as I walked toward the village, 
by a friend of my uncle's by the name of Joe Burgess. 
He, like my uncle, had formerly lived in what is now 
the State of West Virginia, and had there become a fast 
friend of Frank Perkins, and from there had accom- 
panied him on his trip across the plains to California. He 
had also returned eastward with him and had settled 
with him in his new home on the banks of the Raccoon 
River. He was a man some forty years of age, who had 
never married, and who like myself, was a keen lover of 
outdoor life. This being true, I found myself at once 
delighted with his company, and we were congratulating 
ourselves on the fact that we were in a new land far re- 
moved from the throng of overburdened life that surged 
in the city upon the Atlantic seaboard. Earth, sky and 
water, and an occasional cry of a waterfowl overhead 
seemed to fill our souls and expand our thoughts in a 
way that could not be done in civilization's crowded cen- 
ters. 

We were nearing the ferry landing on the west shore 
of the river when my companion called my attention to 
a boatload of people coming across the river from the 
east shore. There was, of course, no bridge across the 
stream at that time. A ferry plied between the two 
shores, being operated by a sweep and poles and by the 
aid of a rope stretched across the stream where the 
channel was swiftest and deepest. I had not, however, 
paid particular attention to the approaching boat which 
I could see only imperfectly on account of the shrubs and 
trees that grew along the bank, and was looking toward 
the scattered buildings of the little town when my com- 
panion suddenly caught my arm and with a quick ex- 

15 



clamation, pointed toward the boat in the river. 1 
looked in time to see that it had suddenly capsized and 
that its occupants had been thrown into the water. Two 
of the occupants of the boat were women, and a quick 
glance sufficed to show that one of them, a young lady, 
was being carried rapidly down the swift current of the 
stream. Without hesitation I threw off my coat and 
plunged into the water. 

What followed may seem rather strange, and to a cer- 
tain extent unbelievable, but what I am about to tell you 
actually occurred nevertheless. The young lady was 
able to keep herself afloat but utterly unable to make 
any progress toward the shore. She was going down the 
channel facing down stream, and as I approached her 
from behind I could not see her features or in any way 
gain any idea of who she might be. I swam with all my 
might, and was almost on the point of reaching out to 
seize some part of her clothing when I was dimly con- 
scious of something striking me on the head, and re- 
membered nothing more until I found myself lying on 
my back upon a little island a hundred yards or more 
down stream. Joe Burgess was bending over me and 
peering into my face with an anxious countenance. I 
sat up and looked about me, and as what had occurred 
came to my mind, I asked my companion what had hap- 
pened since I was swimming toward the young lady in 
the river. Much to my surprise I was informed that a 
young man who had also been an occupant of the boat 
that had overturned, had struck me on the head with an 
oar just as I was coming within reach of the young lady. 
My friend informed me that this particular fellow had 
climbed upon the overturned boat and had recovered 
one of the oars and with it had propelled the boat swiftly 

10 



down the racing current. As he approached myself and 
the young lady, and came within reach of us, he de- 
liberately laid me out with the oar, and then jumped 
from the boat and swam toward the shore. The young 
lady had been rescued by a boat which put out from the 
shore, and as to what further had occurred, my com- 
panion was unable to say. 

My friend then swam across the river and procured 
a boat and coming back for me took me to the shore and to 
my uncle's home. I spent the rest of the day there and the 
following night, recovering from the effects of the blow 
on my head, and the next morning my uncle's friend and 
I set out for the village to ascertain if we could, who it 
was that had been in the boat, and who it was that had 
struck me on the head with an oar, and why he had done 
so. We proceeded to the stage station in the east edge 
of the village, and were there informed substantially as 
follows as to how the accident in the river had occurred. 

I must say in the beginning, however, that there were 
of course no railroads in that part of Iowa at that time. 
There was a line of railway extending from Davenport 
to Iowa City, and from that point westward across the 
state to Council Bluffs, passengers traveled entirely by 
stage. The stage line ran through Des Moines and Adel, 
as it proceeded westward. In the spring of the year of 
course the roads were bad, and in some places well nigh 
bottomless. The stages also carried the personal belong- 
ings of their passengers, and also carried the United 
States mail. The trunks of the passengers and the mail 
bags were carried upon a sort of endgate on the rear of 
the stage, and were also placed on top of the vehicle. 

We were informed that a stage load of people were 

17 



traveling from Des Moines to Adel, and that when they 
arrived at the east bank of the river that flowed by the 
town of Adel, they discovered that the ferry was not be- 
ing operated. It seems that the ferry man had gone on 
a spree and left the travelers who came to the river bank 
by stage to get across the stream as best they might. 
More than twenty miles of soggy prairie and black heavy 
mud had not added to the cheerfulness of the stage 
driver. When he arrived at the river bank, he was in 
an extremely irritable state of mind, and when he dis- 
covered that the ferry was not running, his irritability 
was increased many fold. It happened however, that a 
boy in a boat appeared at the landing on the east bank 
about the time the stage arrived, and offered the stage 
driver the use of the boat for getting across the stream. 
The offer was immediately accepted and the driver im- 
mediately took charge of the boat and himself took the 
oars and began rowing across the stream. He had 
ordered his passengers into the boat and they had meekly 
complied with his orders. The boy, however, he left on 
the bank, promising to return the boat to him after he 
had taken his passengers across. The boat was a flat 
bottom affair about sixteen feet in length and as there 
were four passengers, he had piled a trunk in the bottom 
of the boat and had also piled into it three mail sacks 
which he had been carrying on the stage. It seems that 
he had ordered the young lady whom I had attempted 
to rescue, to sit upon the trunk in the bottom, so as to 
make room for the other passengers upon the boards 
that answered for seats. All went well enough as he 
rowed across the more shallow part of the stream, but 
when the boat's prow reached the main channel of the 
is 



river, the racing current immediately whirled the boat 
around and headed it down stream. The stage driver in 
his furious effort to right the boat, knocked one of the 
mail sacks overboard, and in a sudden effort to recover 
the mail, had upset the boat. His four passengers con- 
sisted of two young men and a middle aged woman and 
the young lady of whom I have spoken. The middle 
aged woman immediately proceeded to almost drown 
one of the young men in her frantic effort to keep from 
being drowned herself. She had clung to him desper- 
ately and he was barely able to get her and himself ashore 
safely. The stage driver immediately struck out for the 
shore, and abandoned his passengers to their fate. What 
occurred after that is as I have already told you. 

We could get no other information than this at the 
stage station, except that every one present seemed to be 
considerably impressed with the good looks of the young 
lady, and were very much interested in the whole affair, 
though apparently being as much in the dark as to the 
motive of the young man who had attacked me, as I was 
myself. 

We left the station and proceeded up the street to- 
ward the little store buildings that were situated two or 
three blocks farther westward. As we neared one of the 
stores, I noticed a young man and a young woman com- 
ing down the street toward the store from the opposite 
direction in which we were going. Something about the 
young man's appearance attracted my attention. I could 
not take my eyes from him, and as he came nearer, I saw 
what I had at first thought was true, that the young man 
was Harry Lee. He and the young lady made a splendid 
appearance, and this seemed to doubly incense me. As 

19 



I have said, Lee was a fine looking fellow. He was six 
feet or more tall, and was as lithe and strong as a pan- 
ther. His hair was jetblack and his eyes of an almost 
equal shade. The young lady was as handsome as he. 
She had beauty as most people understand it, and she 
had what appealed to me more, a splendid physique and 
abounding good health. She was none other than Julia 
King. 

Of course I was almost completely overcome, and was 
fairly blind with rage. Lee and Miss King stepped into 
the store, and Joe Burgess and I came up quickly and 
stepped in after them. I stopped with my back to the 
door, and waited until Lee turned and faced me. As he 
did so he recognized me and a cynical smile curled his 
lip and illuminated his countenance. I waited no longer, 
but struck him full in the face with all the force of which 
I was capable. He went back upon his hands, but quickly 
recovered himself and came at me like a demon. In- 
stantly the little store was in an uproar. Pots, pans and 
kettles were knocked from the shelves, show cases over- 
turned, the stovepipe knocked down from the stove, and 
the whole interior of the store became pandemonium. We 
however, did not stay there long, but burst through the 
door in each other's embrace and rolled struggling and 
fighting into the street. There the superior physical 
strength of my antagonist became at once apparent, and 
almost before I realized it, I was upon my back in the 
street, and Harry Lee's knee was upon my breast and his 
hands upon my throat. I saw his wicked, evil eyes look- 
ing down at me and saw a knife flash above my head. I 
closed my eyes, expecting the impending stab, but as I 
did so I felt the weight upon my breast suddenly re- 

20 



leased. As I opened my eyes I saw Lee rolling many feet 
from me, and saw Joe Burgess on top of him. 

At this moment the village marshal appeared on the 
scene and placed us all under arrest. We were taken be- 
fore a justice of the peace where I at once plead guilty 
to the charge of assault and battery, and paid a small 
fine. Lee after many protests finally did the same, and 
withdrew from the presence of the court. As he passed 
out of the room however, I saw his eyes upon me and 1 
read in the expression of his face that he would settle with 
me later. I then withdrew from the room in time to see 
Miss King and Lee and another young man proceeding 
toward the stage station. I was informed that the other 
young man was the one who had been in the boat when 
it capsized, and a few minutes later I saw all three of 
them cross the river on the ferry, and take the stage on 
the east shore bound in the direction of Des Moines. 

When they had gone Joe Burgess remarked that he 
thought I did not know who it was that had attacked me 
in the river. I of course told him that I did not. His 
amazement of course was very great as he then asked me 
why I had attacked this fellow without the slightest word 
of explanation as to who he was, if I did not know who it 
was that had struck me when I was attempting to rescue 
the young lady. He was consumed with curiosity, but I 
declined to explain the situation until we had arrived 
home. There at his request and at the request of my 
uncle, I related my experience in the East and the facts 
growing out of my acquaintance with Harry Lee, which 
served to explain why I had attacked him without any 
preliminary explanation. I told them of my prison term 
and Lee's part in putting me in the State Prison. At my 

21 



uncle's request I related everything I knew about Lee 
and Allen. He was very much interested; so much so in 
fact, that I could not help being impressed by the fact 
that his interest was personal, as well as on account of 
his interest in me. I questioned him in regard to the mat- 
ter and he then told me that he had known families in 
Virginia by the name of Lee and Allen, and that in that 
part of the State which is now West Virginia, he had 
known of a fued of long standing between these famil- 
ies. With the older members of the family he had been 
well acquainted and knew of the feeling that existed be- 
tween them. With the younger members he had not been 
acqainted, but he expressed it as his firm conviction that 
they were members of the same families, and that that 
explained the reason for Lee's otherwise unaccountable 
shooting of Allen in the gambling den in New York City. 
He told me that it was lucky that I prevented Lee from fir- 
ing another shot, for if I had not, I would have un- 
doubtedly been the next victim. Undoubtedly he said Lee 
thought it was a grand opportunity to ged rid of Allen be- 
cause of his hereditary enmity, and of me because of my 
interest in Julia King. This explained the situation in 
part, but I saw also that my uncle was interested even 
to a greater extent than even his explanation would im- 
ply. Afterwards I inquired of Joe Burgess, and he told 
me that my uncle had, while living in Virginia, been en- 
gaged to marry a young woman by the name of Nellie 
King, and he told me also that while riding with my 
uncle in the mountains near her home, that she had been 
shot from ambush, by a gang of cutthroats and desper- 
adoes. He told me the shot was undoubtedly intended 
for my uncle, but that they had killed his fiancee in- 



stead. He also said that my uncle had always been con- 
vinced that it was the Lee gang who had done the shoot- 
ing. This of course was surprising news to me, and of 
course my recital of my story to my uncle was surpris- 
ing news to him. 

And more surprising was the fact that Julia King was 
in Iowa in the very state where I had come after leaving 
the East with the intention of getting away from every- 
thing civilized and everything connected with civiliza- 
tion's institutions. I had been in the penitentiary a year 
and had made a feeble attempt to start up in my profes- 
sion and had forsaken the whole business and had come 
west. She had gone abroad and had returned without 
my knowledge, and had come to the center of the Conti- 
nent to the very locality where I had myself come. All 
these things were quite surprising and extremely inter- 
esting to me. I was consumed with curiosity to know 
why Julia King had come to Iowa, and who it was that 
had accompanied her to Adel, and of course I was much 
more interested to know whether she was still unmar- 
ried and what the relation of Lee or this other young 
man to her might be. From the information that I could 
get at the stage station, I learned that they had all three 
come from Des Moines, and that apparently they had 
been in Des Moines for some time. You may think that 
I at once went to Des Moines to see her but I did not. I 
did make a trip to ascertain as to these matters concern- 
ing which I have spoken, and I found that she was un- 
married, and that so far as could be ascertained, there 
were no immediate prospects of her getting married, and 
that the young man other than Lee, with whom she had 
come to Adel was her brother-in-law. Her married 

23 



sister had, with her husband come West, and had located 
in Des Moines. The young man was of an impetuous 
and adventurous disposition and had been thrilled with 
the opening of the new lands in Iowa, and had come here 
to take up new lands and to establish himself in busi- 
ness in the then small town at the forks of the Raccoon 
and Des Moines Rivers. Miss King had come to pay 
them a visit and to spend the summer there. Having 
gained this information I returned to my uncle's home 
near Adel. 

It was some time before I returned again to Des 
Moines. I remained away principally on account of the 
somewhat ridiculous figure that I had cut in my encoun- 
ter with Harry Lee, and also for reasons that I have be- 
fore mentioned to you. I could not of course return to 
Des Moines as a conquering hero, and consequently my 
desire was to keep out of sight as much as possible. This 
desire was furthered by my physical condition generally. 
I had been vanquished by my opponent and this fact 
added to the fact that I was unable to accomplish the 
thing that I would like to have accomplished on account 
of a lack of physical strength, made me extremely de- 
sirous of keeping entirely in the background. Unless I 
state to you the extent to which this lack of physical 
strength and valor humiliated and humbled me, I would 
not state to you the true impulses of my life and the true 
motives that actuated my conduct in those earlier days. 
I was content to come West from New York without hav- 
ing ascertained the whereabouts of Miss King, even 
though I more ardently desired to win her than to win 
any one else, or anything else in the world, but the fact 
that she was a perfect physical type, and the fact that I 

24 



was almost the exact opposite of that, deterred me from 
even going to see her. 

I had observed much in the world of nature as to the 
evolutionary forces at work in the world, and had noted 
with absorbed interest the defeats and humiliations of 
the weak, and the triumphs and successes of the strong. 
I, from my earliest childhood, had been interested in na- 
ture and the outdoor world, and it had been early im- 
pressed indelibly upon my mind that the weak are prac- 
tically without hope in the world. In the wilderness I 
observed that it was true, and I also observed that it was 
true in the world of civilization. I saw the never-end- 
ing conflict between individuals and tribes and races and 
I observed that the weak were always weeded out and that 
the strong always rose to positions of supremacy. I ob- 
served that the weak invariably fought the losing fight, 
and were pitted against hopeless odds. In fact I saw 
that in the animal and vegetable worlds, that this very 
struggle and this very success of the strong, was what 
contributed to the upbuilding of species and tribes and 
races, and that it was absolutely necessary for the good 
of the race that the weak be weeded out and relegated to 
oblivion; that they should be prevented from perpet- 
uating their kind for the ultimate good and benefit of the 
species, and this principle as I have said, I saw carried 
on and up into the higher forms of life and exemplified 
in humankind in the world of civilization. Being inter- 
ested as I was in the outdoor world, and in natural his- 
tory, and being enthralled by all of the manifestations of 
nature's handiwork, these things were perhaps more 
vividly impressed upon my mind than they were on 
others, even though they might be situated very much 

25 



the same as I. The idea of the weak perpetuating their 
kind, or the idea of the weak mating with the strong, was 
abhorrent to my mind. I admired splendid physical 
strength and prowess perhaps more than did any other 
person in the world. The vigor of life appealed to me 
as something wonderful and altogether inspiring. Those 
who had it, it seemed to me were thrice blessed. Those 
who did not have it, it seemed to me w T ere cursed and 
damned to an existence of long drawn weariness and 
torment. To attain this vigor of life was really the one 
absorbing principle of my whole existence. Admiring 
as I did, the fine vigor and beauty of the perfect Julia, 
and hating as I did my own physical weakness and unat- 
tractiveness, I could not to the slightest extent, bring 
myself to approach her when it was not absolutely neces- 
sary, or to in any way urge myself upon her. I hated 
my own limitations and cordially despised my general 
appearance and my inability to cope with the environ- 
ment in which I found myself. Consequently, even though 
Julia King had come to the very locality where I myself 
had come, and even though I had ascertained that no 
one had yet won her hand, I was in no hurry to return 
to Des Moines to see her. Instead, when I returned to 
the little village of Adel and rode slowly along the bank 
of the stream toward my uncle's home, I contemplated 
the rich primitive region in which I found myself and de- 
cided to cast my lot in the world of nature which I saw 
around about me, with the idea of enjoying the wonder- 
ful vigor of life that I saw around me so far as possible, 
and with the idea of building up my physical health and 
strength so as to be able to cope with my environment. 
I contemplated the little village with its few stores and 

26 



houses and the hazelbrush growing to the very doors and 
the fine flood of the river flowing placidly by. I looked 
at the great trees that grew on the banks of the stream 
and at the unfenced and unplowed prairies that extended 
away westward a limitless distance. I saw the water- 
fowl overhead clanging northward; heard the prairie 
chickens booming on the prairies, and I said to myself, 
"This great region uninhabited except by wandering Red- 
men and herds of game shall be mine for weeks and 
months to come, and in it I shall find health and strength 
and the inspiration and the vigor of life that comes to 
him who loves the outdoor world and finds it fresh from 
the hand of the Creator and untouched by the hand of 
man." 



27 



CHAPTER II. 

X SHALL never forget my arrival in Des Moines, and 
the way I felt when I landed there. I was very 
much depressed in spirit. I felt that every man's 
hand was against me and I had even come to feel that 
the hand of the Creator Himself was also against me. 
This for the reason that I had arrived at the conclusion 
that both the weak and the strong must necessarily have 
been created by the Creator and that therefore He was 
responsible for all of the troubles of the weak. I had 
come to Iowa City on the train, and had there taken the 
stage and had come on westward to Des Moines. My 
uncle met me there. He had come from Adel on horse- 
back and had led with him another horse with saddle and 
bridle for my accommodation on the trip from Des 
Moines back to his home at Adel. The shades of eve- 
ning were falling when we set out from the stage station 
at Des Moines, and as it was growing dark as we jogged 
along through the timber west of the city, or rather what 
was then the town, we decided to camp on the banks of 
what is now known as Walnut Creek. My uncle soon 
had a small fire burning, which shone brightly among the 
trees, and I was soon prepared to spend the night by the 
campfire. Rolling up in one of the big buffalo robes 
which I had taken from the back of the saddle on the 
horse brought for me, I was soon lying by the fireside 



2b 



contemplating the past and what the future might have 
in store. 

In a short time I was asleep. 

It was a sad sweet sleep. Sad because of all that I 
had forsaken and left behind and sweet because of all 
that I had found and would appropriate which was be- 
fore. Down into the depths of the world I seemed to go 
as my eyes closed in slumber. As the great buffalo robe 
enveloped my body so the sense of the primitive world 
enveloped my soul. With a kind of sad wretchedness I 
shook off the thought of civilization and with a sweet 
content my senses were enthralled with the thought of 
wildness, of freedom, of contentment and independence. 
In my subconscious mind the vision of a new land where 
civilization had not yet come lulled me to sleep in all 
its glory. No beast ever escaped from its cage with 
greater relief or with greater horror of its captivity. I 
seemed to hear the babbling of brooks or the thunder of 
waterfalls all night long. Now I would see in my dreams 
the open prairie covered with nodding flowers and alive 
with buffalo. Again the mountains of the great West 
would rise in all their tremendous grandeur, and I would 
see the rocks and crags, the dark forests and the shim- 
mering snow. Away off in their unexplored canyons and 
valleys I would hear the thunder of the avalanche or the 
wind sighing down the great forest clad slopes. Nature 
filled my dreams. The great mother; she that brought 
forth man and beast and bird. I had been born of her 
and now I had come back home. No child ever buried 
its face at its mother's knee with deeper emotions than 
those that filled my soul. Even in sleep they were there. 
I could not drown them even when my senses were 

29 



dulled in slumber. The next day we completed the 
journey to Adel. 

I had been there but a short time when a really won- 
derful change came over me, and it is this change which 
I wish particularly to tell you about. It is of course no 
great wonder that this change took place, for I had come 
to the heart of the American Continent which was in 
practically the same condition that it had been in at the 
time when Columbus sailed. Nowhere in the world, per- 
haps, was there an equal amount of wild game and an 
equal amount of wild, uncivilized lands, except upon 
the continent of Africa. These two great continents, 
though differing radically in climate, might very fitly be 
compared as to the conditions that prevailed upon them 
before civilization came. On the western half of the 
American Continent at that time the buffalo and ante- 
lope thronged in uncounted thousands. In the far 
West the herds of game could be compared to the im- 
mense herds that swarmed upon the plains of southern 
and eastern Africa. These great w T ild lands and these 
great herds of wild game were enough, it seemed to me, 
to waken and revivify the spirits of anyone with the least 
spark of life in his being. The morning sun rising over 
the great plains of the far West in that early day was an 
inspiration that must have its effect upon the most sordid 
nature. Upon mine particularly, the effect was abso- 
lutely electrifying. At that particular time of course I 
was not in the far West, but I was upon the eastern edge 
of the greatest game land in all the world. I say the 
greatest, because even though the lands of Africa could 
be fitly compared to these American lands, it is, never- 
theless true that the climate here is much superior and 

30 



the types of game to be found here in many respects 
were and are much superior to any type of animal found 
on the great tropical continent. There was something 
particularly ennobling as well as enjoyable about the 
sights to be seen upon the western half of the American 
continent in those early days. It seemed to me, as I con- 
templated the scenes before me, and the wonderful times 
that appeared to be ahead of me, that no one in all the 
world ever appreciated or understood what life is, or 
knew what it meant, who had not experienced for a time 
at least, the wild free life of the hunter and pioneer. I 
thought of the swarming thousands coming from the 
ancient East, and landing upon the American shores. I 
thought of the growing multitude of buildings, the end- 
less pavements and the polluting smokes rising into the 
skies. I thought of all these things, then thought of the 
freedom that was mine, and thought how poor in spirit 
were those whom I had left behind. I saw the sun rise 
over the tree-tops along the river in the morning, heard 
the prairie chickens booming on the prairie to the west- 
ward, saw the immense multitudes of waterfowl throng- 
ing northward, and felt that life indeed was good, but 
that nowhere in the world was it quite so good as where 
the sunlight lit up the glorious expanse of unfenced and 
unplowed prairies and shone and twinkled upon the 
sparkling waters and greeted the herds of game that 
thronged upon the wild landscape. I had longed to get 
away from civilization and from business, and from the 
petty round of sordid duties connected therewith, I 
longed for the wide plains with their shimmering light 
waves and heat, and I longed for the relaxation of body 
and soul that comes from association with the wild 



31 



things of nature. As I dismounted from my horse in 
front of my uncle's home, I realized fully that I had 
found everything that I had longed for. I was in a 
hunter's paradise. 

My uncle's home was a house of logs which he had 
erected with his own hands on the West bank of the 
river. Nearby was a log barn and horse corral. Half 
a dozen or more horses were looking at us over the bars 
of the corral as we had approached the house upon our 
arrival. Two or three of these animals were fine saddle 
horses, and upon them, as well as upon the one which I 
had ridden from Des Moines, I was to have many a 
splendid ride over the rolling prairies to the westward. 
In fact, as I surveyed the scene about me, and sensed the 
quiet serenity of the spot, and as I felt at the same time 
the wild primitive nature of the world into which I had 
come, I seemed suddenly to become full of the overflow- 
ing abundance and vigor of life. And when I have said 
the vigor of life, I have said the most vital and most im- 
portant words imaginable. There can be nothing worse 
in the world than low spirits and poor health. Sickness 
in body or mind or soul imports the worst condition 
imaginable and upon the other hand, health of body and 
mind and spirit is the greatest thing in the world. And 
to say therefore, that I felt in my being the vigor of life 
as I looked about upon the primitive scene, is to say that 
I felt the finest thing of which the human life is capable. 
To be a horseman upon uncivilized lands, to be a hunter 
in a land teeming with game, to be a sportsman and 
naturalist and to a certain extent a student in a new land 
which itself gave abundant evidence of the vigor of life, 
is to be all those things for which a normal healthy 

32 



human being must ever ardently long. I longed for 
freedom and I had found it. I longed for health and 
strength, and I had found them. I longed for physical 
hardihood, and I had found it. In a short time I ate and 
slept in the full enjoyment of all physical perfection. 
The simple joys of life are the greatest joys that life 
affords, and I had found there simple joys in their 
simplest and greatest perfection. In a short time after 
my arrival I was winning for myself the food which was 
placed upon the table and enjoying winning it in the 
splendid thrill and excitement of the chase, and in win- 
ning it I developed a keen appetite, strength of body and 
soul that made my sleep at night sweeter than it had 
ever been. In the log house upon the river's bank I 
watched the moon rise over the tree-tops, saw the sky set 
with many twinkling orbs, and sank to rest in perfect re- 
pose and comfort. What cared I for wealth or position 
or fame? All of those things were brushed out of my 
mind as cobwebs that had heretofore impeded its free 
and healthy action. Mine was the full enjoyment of life 
and I cared nothing for those things sought after by the 
exponents of civilization. To be happy and content in 
my own soul was what I had longed for, and was what I 
had attained. I cared for nothing else in all the world. 

There was in my uncle's home another person of 
whom I must tell you. This person was none other than 
an Indian chief. I was quite surprised when I saw him 
there, but my uncle informed me that when crossing the 
plains to the California gold fields, he had encountered 
many adventures, and that not the least of these was the 
saving of the life of a Pawnee chief in a rather wild and 
strange adventure along the banks of the Platte River in 

33 



what is now the State of Nebraska. This chief had taken 
a great fancy to my uncle, and desired in every way to 
express his gratitude for what my uncle had done for 
him. Upon returning eastward from the gold fields 
again my uncle had passed once more through the Paw- 
nee villages upon the banks of the Platte, and the chief 
being ever grateful, had once more sought to show his 
gratitude and had accompanied my uncle to his home 
on the bank of the Raccoon River in Iowa. At this place 
he had spent much of his time thereafter. He was a 
splendid specimen of red manhood, showing none of the 
squalor and scrawniness of some of the redmen of the 
West, but in full vigor of manhood he displayed the 
qualities of a typical warrior and was a splendid physi- 
cal type. It was not long until I had become his fast 
friend, and of this I was very proud. Many a hunting 
excursion we made together, and many a secret of the 
woods and plains I learned from the cunning chief. 

I have said that a short time after my arrival in my 
uncle's home a great change came over me, and from 
what I have said it must be apparent that this was the 
case. I had come to Iowa discouraged and depressed, 
sick at heart and sick in body and soul, but I had been 
there but a remarkably short time when I stepped 
lightly, breathed easily, and entered into all the fine joys 
of a vigorous and eventful life. This was not entirely 
due to the influence of my surroundings. Great as that 
influence was, I do not maintain that it was sufficient to 
bring about such a remarkable change. The change was 
not so much due to a change of scene and climate as it 
was to a change of mind. I have said that I came West 
feeling that the hand of every man was against me, and 

34 



that even the hand of the Creator himself had also 
been turned against me, but about the time of my arrival 
at my uncle's home I saw the absurdity of such a feel- 
ing and such a belief. I had thought that the Creator 
had created both the weak and the strong and had filled 
the world with all the misery and woe attendant upon 
the weak and the inability to cope with environment, but 
as I arrived at my uncle's home and surveyed the won- 
derful scenes about me, I suddenly concluded that this 
could not be true, that even though this struggle is every- 
where and the world full of tragedy as I knew it to be, 
I nevertheless decided conclusively and once for all, that 
the Creator was not responsible for it. My love of na- 
ture had caused me to believe in the omnipotence of the 
Creator, but my still greater love of nature as I arrived 
in Iowa, made me decide irrevocably that this omnipo- 
tence was not responsible for the tragedy of the weak. 
I said to myself: "It can not be. The hand of the Crea- 
tor is against no one. So far as it is active at all in the 
affairs of man it is for them and not against them." The 
thought was revolutionary. I acted upon it instantly. 
My faith in it was absolute. I said to myself : "The hand 
of the Creator is for me and never was against me, is not 
now and never will be. All of the beautiful things of the 
world and all the vigor of life are for my benefit and 
? or the benefit of humanity at large. I shall enjoy them 
to the utmost." With absolute and implicit faith in the 
goodness of the Creator, and in His omnipotence and 
ability to create and control the world and the universe, 
plunged in without fear of any consequence, and I be- 
came emancipated as a result. The world for me was 
created anew. It seemed that I had got hold of life and 

35 



nowhere in the world could life have been more abun- 
dant for a person of my tastes than it was in Iowa in 
that early day. Myriads of waterfowl, hundreds and 
thousands of prairie chickens on the rolling prairies, in- 
numerable reedy lakes and ponds scattered over the 
wide landscape, the wild swan and sandhill crane in the 
air above, the deer and elk in the thickets along the river, 
the fertile soil, the abundance of vegetation, the wild 
plums and nuts growing in profusion all filled me with 
the most glorious enjoyment of life of which a human 
being is capable. I fairly reveled in what I am pleased 
to call the abundant life. I watched the ever-changing 
and shifting scenes displayed by nature before me, and 
was supremely happy. I loved these manifestations of 
nature as manifestations of the power that is behind the 
world. Through the changing seasons as I remained in 
Iowa, I watched the fascinating play of nature's forces. 
I was in closest touch with her and read in deepest com- 
radeship her secrets. I saw the glare of the great prairie 
fires lighting up the heavens at night in wild and weird 
and fantastic fury, saw the great tongues of flame dart- 
ing here and there, rising and falling before the wind 
like monster dragons from the infernal regions. I heard 
the roar and crackle of the flames sweeping onward 
over the plains. I saw the blizzard come where the fires 
had been, saw the great sheets of drifting, blinding snow 
driving, rising and falling before the icy blast. I saw the 
primitive, titanic, natural world in solitude. Saw it 
there when the sun blazed hot and shimmering heat 
waves quivered over the plains. Saw it when the muff- 
ling snow shut out the warmth of the sun and when the 
planes were desolate in their covering of white. I saw it 

36 



all and loved it. And then slowly there came over me the 
realization of something unseen, something unspoken. 
What was it? What was Nature? What gave force 
and purpose to her laws? What made them and what 
controlled them through all the vast number of years 
and centuries that the prairie had been there in solitude. 
I looked long at the moon and silent stars. How many, 
many years had they looked down on the wild scenes 
where the winds blew and the fires roared and the bliz- 
zards raged? How I loved that prairie and how I loved 
the woods along the river and how I loved all the wild 
things that made the land their home for it was begin- 
ning to be plain to me that in loving them I was loving 
God. 



37 



CHAPTER III. 

ONE AFTERNOON in the late fall, Joe Burgess and 
I found ourselves on a bluff overlooking the river 
some two and a half miles northwest of the vil- 
lage. Both of us being fond of outdoor life, and of the 
chase, we had therefore much in common, and on such 
occasions as the one of which I am about to speak, we 
frequently discussed many philosophical questions and 
many things in regard to the life of human beings in this 
world. The particular day of which I am speaking was 
Sunday. It was in the month of November, but as some- 
times occurs in Iowa, the weather was balmy and warm. 
The season of course being far advanced, the sun had 
swung low in the south and sunk to rest in the west ap- 
parently almost in midafternoon, but as sometimes oc- 
curs, the weather was very mild and a peculiar drowsi- 
ness was in the atmosphere that is characteristic of the 
mellow days of fall. As we sat on the bluff overlooking 
the river and looked down the valley toward the little 
town, the sound of a church bell came to our ears. Joe 
suggested what had apparently not occurred to either of 
us before, that it was Sunday. I acquiesced in his sug- 
gestion, and then after a pause, Joe suggested that pos- 
sibly we should be in church. I remember the peculiar 
expression of his face when I rejoined that I thought 
we were in church, and then went on to tell him of my 
belief that church did not necessarily mean a building of 



four walls with a spire on the top of it, and that religious 
communion and worship should not necessarily be con- 
fined to or concentrated upon any one day. I remember 
of telling him that I believed that the Ruler of the Uni- 
verse was indeed supreme and omnipotent and omni- 
present, and that I felt it my duty to live rightly at all 
times, and to feel myself in the divine presence at all 
times to the same extent that I might on Sunday. I re- 
member also telling him that the world of nature was 
church to me, and we were in the church of the great 
out-of-doors, and that by way of illustration of the 
thought, I remember of quoting the lines : "The heavens 
declare the glory of God, and the firmament sheweth his 
handywork. Day unto day uttereth speech, and might 
unto night sheweth knowledge." This appealed more 
strongly to Joe than anything that I had said up to that 
time. I remember the peculiar feeling with which he 
referred to the lines that I had quoted, and how he said 
that he had many times thought of them and repeated 
them to himself when he had been alone on the prairie, 
or in the mountains far from the abode of man. He said 
that they had been a constant source of comfort and 
satisfaction to him during his lonely journeys in the 
great wild lands of the American continent. He became 
more enthusiastic as he talked, and in turn quoted to me 
the line: "The fool hath said in his heart, there is no 
God." I remember the earnestness with which he quoted 
these words and the sincerity with which he maintained 
their truth. He said he did not see how it could be pos- 
sible for any human being to live long in the wilderness 
and not feel the absolute truth of those words. I agreed 
with him heartily, and said to him that with that state- 

39 



ment as a fundamental tenet in my belief that I would 
quote one other statement from the same source, and 
that upon the two quotations substantially rested my en- 
tire religion, and substantially governed my entire con- 
duct in life. I then quoted the lines: "Thou shalt love 
the Lord thy God with all thy heart and with all thy soul 
and with all thy mind. This is the first and great com- 
mandment. And the second is like unto it, Thou shalt 
love thy neighbor as thyself. On these two command- 
ments hang all the law, and the prophets." Joe was very 
much impressed by this latter quotation, and seemed to 
grasp at it with considerable relief. I remember he told 
me that the life he led prevented him from attending 
church to any great extent, and that he felt that he had 
been more or less of a heathen so far as religious mat- 
ters were concerned. I in turn warmly insisted that he 
had not been, and that I would stake my life upon it that 
his religion and conduct was of much higher grade than 
the average church goer's. To this Joe made no reply, 
and still seemed somewhat in doubt on the question. 
From these remarks in regard to religious matters I re- 
member of passing to another subject of kindred nature, 
which at that time was very close to my heart. I asked 
Joe if he had ever read much in the Book of Job, and he 
replied that he had, and that he derived more pleasure 
from the Book of Job and the Psalms than from any 
other books of holy writ. I understood at once that the 
reason for this was because of the wonderful descrip- 
tions of the wonders of nature contained in those books 
and because of the rich imagery and incomparable 
beauty of expression contained in those particular books 
of the Bible. I then told Joe that those two books, but 

40 



especially the Book of Job, were very much in my mind 
at that time. Having come to Iowa at that time all of 
the wonders of Creation were displayed before my eyes 
and it seemed that the authors of the books referred to 
might have gained their inspiration from and might have 
been describing the very objects with which I had been 
surrounded. The great primeval forces of nature were 
exhibited everywhere, and seemed to speak of the dawn 
of creation and of the upbuilding of the physical world 
as described in the books referred to, and passages also 
in the Book of Genesis. But what I particularly had in 
mind at that time was the attitude of mind which I had 
entertained upon coming to Iowa, and the wonderful 
change that had come over me shortly after my arrival 
here. This change impressed me particularly in con- 
nection with the reading of the Book of Job. Job, we 
are told, was a perfect and upright man, one who feared 
God and eschewed evil, yet we are also told that ap- 
parently out of pure caprice the Supreme Ruler of the 
world selected him as a shining mark for punishment and 
torment. The whole thing seemed shocking and bar- 
barous to me. Until I had come to Iowa I never at all 
understood the Book of Job, but after having come here, 
it seemed very clear to me. I thought of how all the 
way through this particular Book of the Bible, Job had 
attempted to justify himself with God and had "filled his 
mouth with arguments." I recalled that running through 
the entire book was the complaint and accusation on the 
part of Job that the Almighty had brought his sufferings 
upon him. All through the book Job was made to speak 
of the great power of the Supreme Being and how it was 
impossible to contend against it; that His hand had been 

41 



turned against him and that he was without hope. De- 
scriptions of this nature occurred to me from passages of 
that great epic of sacred literature, but at the very end 
of the book in a very few lines the whole tragedy is 
turned and Job says: "Now mine eye seeth Thee" and 
his misery passes and he is given twice as much as he 
had before and restored to his former abundance. The 
thought had occurred to me that possibly the matter did 
not lie so much with the Almigthy as it had lain with 
Job himself; that it must have been true that Job was 
mistaken about the Almighty punishing him or in any 
way causing him to suffer. It must have been true that 
Job's misery and woe very largely arose because of a 
mistaken idea of his relation to the Supreme Ruler of 
the world. It is unthinkable that the Supreme Being 
should so degrade and humiliate and break the spirit of 
any man, to say nothing of a perfect and upright one. I 
wondered if it could be possible that Job's thinking that 
this was true had brought his troubles upon him, and 
that when he said "Now mine eye seeth Thee," that the 
words meant that he had suddenly come to understand 
that he had been mistaken and that the Almighty never 
deliberately punishes anybody but is ever ready to ex- 
tend a helping hand, and that when this revolutionary 
change of thought and mind came upon him, that he was 
immediately restored to his former position of happiness 
and glory. Perhaps Job had changed his mind and had 
arrived at the conclusion as I had done, that God was not 
against him, but was for him, and that in every possible 
way he would lift up and exalt, rather than degrade and 
humiliate. Could it be possible that thinking that the 
Almighty had turned his hand against him, was so op- 

42 



posed to every fundamental principle and to every moral 
force in the Universe and was so counter to the normal 
condition of affairs that it had caused these troubles 
to come upon him? Was it possible that they existed 
in his mind alone? It seemed to me that it was not only 
possible but quite probable. Undoubtedly such a con- 
dition would not obtain in a superficial thinker, nor in 
one who had not meditated long upon the nature and 
origin of life, and of rules of conduct, but in the mind 
of one like Job, whose deep religious convictions were 
profound, and which governed his whole life and were 
of such a nature that he had really seen and felt the 
power of the Almighty as others had not, it would be 
quite probable that these wrong conclusions would bring 
these troubles upon him. At any rate, it is quite sug- 
gestive that as soon as he was able to say: "Now mine 
eye seeth Thee," that all of these things vanished and 
vanished instantly. I spoke of my belief in regard to the 
Book of Job to my friend Joe Burgess, but failed of the 
sympathetic response that I had received in regard to the 
other things that I had suggested. Joe, I think, did not 
entirely grasp my thought, but I was convinced deep 
down in my own soul that I had gone through something 
of the same experience that is portrayed in the Book of 
Job, and above all things I was convinced that there was 
not one particle of truth in the belief that the Almighty 
had selected any one man to make an example of him 
or to punish him in any way, and I was convinced in my 
own mind, though I said little of it to my friend, that 
these sufferings of Job were largely mental and were 
caused largely by erroneous belief, and because of fear. 
Through the entire book there runs also the idea of fear. 

43 



"The thing which I greatly feared is come upon me" said 
Job, and in the light of my own experiences I had no 
doubt whatever but that very fear increased and multi- 
plied the sufferer's woes. To fear the Supreme Being 
in the sense of being afraid of him as one would be 
afraid of a monster, is to utterly pervert every teaching 
of true Christian religion. I had arrived at the conclu- 
sion, therefore, that when Job says: "Now mine eye 
seeth Thee" that he had discovered that the Supreme Be- 
ing was not a being to be feared at all in this sense, but 
was one to be sought out for aid and assistance, rather 
than otherwise. These things had come upon my mind 
after my arrival in Iowa with overwhelming force and 
in addition thereto, I had the tangible physical evidence 
of my own transformation as evidence of the truth of my 
conclusions. With these things in mind I had come to 
believe that there was hope for all weak and down- 
trodden persons, and that in spite of a heritage of physi- 
cal weakness, the weak might nevertheless be raised to 
positions similar to a certain extent, to those of the 
strong. In other words, that the weak might not always 
be weak, but that they might become strong. I even 
suggested to Joe that it seemed strange that the perform- 
ance of miracles should be forever a thing of the past, 
and should be read of in holy writ and thought of in a 
vague and indefinite way and never taken seriously as 
applied to present day affairs. I even hazarded the be- 
lief that the day would come when they would again be 
performed in the world and not necessarily by any one 
person sent to save the world, but by people generally 
in their individual capacity. Of course I admitted that 
it might be a long time before this condition would come 



to pass but even at that my friend was very skeptical 
and I saw that he had lost what interest he had had in 
the conversation. Continuing, however, the discussion 
of the chances that the weak might have in the world 
my friend said: "The weak are always run out of the 
herd. In the world of nature they are soon weeded out 
and killed off. They never get anywhere and never 
amount to anything. The runts and the weak specimens 
generally are always destroyed by the strong. They 
always have been, they are now, and they always will 
be." I remember of telling him that I had formerly 
thought the same thing, but within the last few weeks I 
had arrived at the conclusion that the time would come 
when this would not be so, and that the weak would have 
as good a heritage in the world as the strong. Joe then 
went on to say that it could not be so, that there was 
nothing in the world so sure as heredity that there was 
no force in nature so absolutely inexorable and pitiless 
as a heritage given to succeeding generations by ances- 
tors that might be weak or strong as the case might be. 
"This is true in the lower animals, and it is true in 
human beings," said Joe. "Many a man I have seen who 
has made his way successfully in the world, and has 
arrived at considerable distinction, whose sons have in 
no way succeeded as he has done, and who have in no 
way arrived at the same distinction. People have won- 
dered at this and spoken of it as a great pity, but to me 
the reason has always been perfectly plain for the 
simple reason that the man in the particular case did 
not exercise his judgment in the matter of selection as 
the laws of nature in the lower animals require, and be- 
cause of an inferior type taken in marriage, the heritage 

45 



handed down has not been what people have expected." 
"But," I insisted, "this will not always be so. The 
weak will some day come into their own." 

Joe argued the matter with me very forcibly for some 
time, and then I noticed a twinkle in his eye and he 
looked up at me and told me I did not believe my own 
words, and that I did not believe what I was saying my- 
self. With some indignation I replied that I certainly 
did, but as the twinkle in the eye developed into a smile 
that wreathed his entire countenance, Joe looked at me 
with an air of triumph and said: "It is all right for 
you to talk in this way, but I notice that you are abso- 
lutely crazy over Julia King." The remark floored me. 
I could make no reply. Joe had advanced an argument 
that was absolutely unanswerable. My theories ap- 
peared very fine but in practice I did not care to rely 
upon them. Joe knew that I would not mate with a 
weakling, and had substantially said as much. He knew 
that I would go around the world through sunshine and 
storm to win the hand of one of the splendid physical 
and mental type of the young lady whom he had sug- 
gested, and he knew that I would watch the procession of 
a thousand of the weaker type go by and never lift a 
finger to stop one of them. 

We shouldered our guns and walked through the 
autumn woods again to the village. I was much dis- 
turbed with conflicting emotions. I was convinced of 
the truth of the conclusions at which I had arrived, and 
yet there was no question but what the observation of 
my friend had been true, and that I would never for a 
minute in actual practice, trust anything but the laws of 
nature as they had been seen to work out through many 
generations. 

46 



CHAPTER IV. 

QEXT DAY I went to Des Moines to see Julia King. 
My uncle accompanied me. We made the trip on 
horseback. 
Only a few blocks west of the Des Moines river the 
shrubs and trees were growing in sweet profusion and 
abandon. The business part of the town was restricted 
to five or six blocks east and west and as many north 
and south. An atmosphere of business and thrift seemed 
to pervade the place, but only a little way up or down 
the river the native forest trees stood in silent dignity. 
On the western edge of the town the woods extended 
back from the river three or four miles. Through these 
I had been riding and I liked to feel that they were my 
friends. There is something so noble about the trees. 
They give such an impression of strength. And they are 
so very grand and awe-inspiring as the breezes touch 
their shaggy tops and they seem to breathe forth a mes- 
sage from the primitive world. Venerable and strong 
and fresh and pure the woods always refresh the body 
and purify the soul. As I rode along through the woods 
I thought of the ages that had come and gone before 
white men ever lived in Iowa and I thought after all 
what a brief space of time a man's life comprehended, 
and, as compared with those the woods had seen, how 
few years I would spend on earth. What of it after all, 
I thought? What if I am an ex-convict, what if my life 

47 



has been a failure? What if I have failed in my profes- 
sion, and what if I am an outcast? When my last day 
on earth shall come, thought I, what difference will all 
those things make? When I have gone back into the 
soil and have become mingled with the elements, what 
difference will it make if only I am true to those things 
in my soul that make me love the trees? 

We were drawing near the scattered houses and were 
soon upon the streets of the town. Much as I hated the 
inroads of civilization upon the works of Nature I was 
impressed and a little pleased with the bustling activity 
of the place. The newness of the business life, the 
crudeness and yet the optimism and wholesomeness of 
the little settlement planted at the forks of the river 
among the trees and hazel brush made a lasting impres- 
sion upon me. There was something never to be for- 
gotten about the vigor and health of the pioneer town. 
It gave promise of wonderful things to come, of a great 
tide, of a great people pouring into a great land. The 
thought always impressed me in the early days, that 
everywhere in this new land things were healthy and 
vigorous. Normal was the rule, abnormal the great ex- 
ception. The people coming here were healthy and 
strong and vigorous physically and mentally. The land 
was a fit place for such a people. The rugged trees grew 
on the bluffs and hillsides with their roots striking deep 
into a virile, fertile soil. Trees and soil and shrubs and 
bushes were those indigenous to a temperate clime and 
were hardy and vigorous as the people who settled 
among them. Animals and birds were equally vigorous, 
equally hardy, and equally splendid in form and figure. 
Everything was of the arch type. The perfect specimen 

4S 



seemed everywhere in evidence. Many, many times this 
thought had possessed and delighted me on my hunting 
excursions. The lordly prairie chicken was a prince in 
his grand domain. A splendid bird typical of the wide 
and wonderful prairies. His proud appearance in early 
spring when in full plumage he strutted and puffed and 
boomed before his mate, was really an inspiring sight. 
The wild swan that stopped here in his flight and that 
came down out of the heavens for a brief rest on the 
green prairies was a bird unequaled on any other con- 
tinent. The elk that pushed through the thickets and 
greeted the sunrise from the high bluffs overlooking the 
river was an antlered monarch over all the wide land 
that came within his far-reaching eye. The buffalo 
farther west was a beast, shaggy and strong and typical 
of his boundless grazing grounds. Farther north the 
moose, the grandest animal of the continent, was splen- 
did evidence of the grand types of animal life that 
the continent could produce. Many times I had thought 
how this North American continent surpasses every other 
in the seven seas. None of the luxuriant and indolent 
beauty of the tropics was here but all the strength and 
fine physique of the temperate zone typified the life in 
this new land and even the very land itself. This 
thought flashed through my mind again as I saw the ac- 
tivity of the citizens of the town at the forks of the rivers 
in this new and wonderful land. What a charm there 
was about the newness of it all. What a fine hope for 
the future. 

We had proceeded but a little way into the town when 
I saw Julia King coming out of one of the stores. She 
did not, however, see me. I watched her up the street 

49 



and as I proceeded on my way I resolved that nothing 
but death would prevent me from marrying Julia King 
I thought again of the continent with its perfect types, 
and I thought of the perfection of Julia King. I was lost 
in admiration. Never had I seen a finer type. Never a 
more perfect specimen of any species. She stepped 
lightly and smiled brightly. Her whole countenance 
seemed to bloom and blossom with health. The blood 
shone through her clear, fair skin with a fine color. Her 
clear brown eyes illuminated a countenance of sweet 
beauty and rare intelligence. And from out that lovely 
countenance I saw shining the light of a soul. 

And this it was that made me so deeply in love with 
Julia King. In the wonderful temple of its earthly 
abode I saw the sweet radiance of a lovely soul. Many 
times I pondered the thought of Julia King and as many 
times I found myself marveling at the unusual com- 
bination. I had seen fine types of physical womanhood 
and I had seen saintly characters lodged in bodies of 
pain and suffering but never had I seen before the com- 
bination of abounding vigor and blooming health with 
sweet womanliness and saintly spirit. She had youth, 
she had beauty and she had strength both in body and 
spirit. She had character in its grandest sense. Gracious 
and sweet to all she had a dignity that aroused the in- 
tensest admiration. 

I had, of course, had dreams for the future. Iowa 
was not only a hunter's paradise but it was also a land 
where civilization, when it came, should flower in its 
perfection. A rich, fertile soil, a temperate climate and 
a land of beauty were Iowa's assets. In the spring the 
fragrance of plum blossoms filled the air and the wild 

60 



apple thickets were things of indescribable beauty. When 
summer came blackberries grew in the woods in deli- 
cious profusion. The red Sweet William covered many 
a mile of prairie in the month of June. The grass grew 
knee deep on the fertile soil. The bob-o-link rose from 
the thick grass and flowers, fluttered higher and higher as 
he uttered his ecstatic song and then sank into the 
luxuriant grass again. Red-wing blackbirds swarmed 
in the marshes and ponds. The loud musical note of 
these birds was constantly in the air. They clung to the 
reeds growing in the ponds, swung gaily in the wind that 
rippled the waters beneath them and then rose in a 
cloud, encircled the pond and settled into the reeds 
again. The wild ducks brought forth their broods on 
these waters and filled the reedy lakes and sloughs with 
thronging wild fowl. Such a land would be a veritable 
promised land for those seeking to rear families and 
build homes. It seemed that the fertile soil would 
yield a wonderful harvest. I dreamed of the days to 
come when Nature would be called upon to do her best. 
I knew immense crops of corn and oats and hay would 
be gathered into the barns that civilization would bring. 
I knew I was in the very center of what would be the 
world's food supply. The settler's little patches of corn, 
the thick matted grass, the wild apples and the enormous 
yellow plums that grew wild in the woods told me that. 
The Indian's maize and beans that grew so readily and 
yielded so abundantly told me that I was in a new land 
where Nature was more prodigal of her yield than any- 
where else in the world. 

I dreamed of making this land my home, and I 
dreamed of making Julia King its queen. I had been to 

51 



see her many times, but much to my disappointment I 
had made little progress. I seemed no nearer to her 
than before and I knew that Harry Lee paid court to her 
while I was away. I refrained always from saying a 
word against Lee and never mentioned the things of which 
I knew he was guilty. I had made but little progress but 
I concluded I would not force myself upon her. There- 
fore after one more call at her uncle's home I definitely 
decided that I would not go back again until spring. 
Meanwhile the winter settled down. The winter of 
1856-7 was really a memorable winter. The sky became 
a leaden gray and the snow began to fall. Day after day 
it continued falling. I had never seen so much snow be- 
fore that time. It steadily deepened so that progress 
through the woods was only accomplished by flounder- 
ing and struggling. The soft, white drifts filled the 
ravines and hollows to a depth of many feet. On the 
prairie the snow lay deep except where the wind had 
swept the ridges clean. A white waste extended far and 
wide in iron desolation. Gradually the weather became 
colder and colder. The wind roared and creaked 
through the trees around our house and the drifts piled 
high about the windows. The settlers became alarmed 
for their stock. They were not sufficiently prepared for 
a winter of such severity. The thermometer sank lower 
and lower and we became more and more shut in from 
the outside world. The intense cold and the great 
depths of the snow made travel extremely hazardous. 
Those of the pioneers who had corn and hay stored for 
the winter's use were extremely fortunate. Corn rais- 
ing at that time had not come to be very extensive, how- 
ever, and food for man and beast was scarce. Some of 

52 



the settlers had practically no shelter for their stock. As 
a substitute they cut down trees and piled them thick 
and high for the famished beasts to get protection from 
the wind and for what food they might obtain from 
browsing upon the boughs and branches. Many head of 
stock were lost in spite of the efforts of their owners. 
A storm of sleet and rain preceding a decided drop in 
temperature covered the poor beasts with a coating of 
ice so that many of them perished from cold and starva- 
tion. Many of the families with whom I had become 
acquainted were reduced in rations to corn alone. This 
they boiled or parched and ate as their sole source of 
subsistence. To these* people as often as possible I took 
deer and prairie chickens to increase their food supply 
and to afford a change in their monotonous diet. The 
deer were stricken almost to the same extent as the 
stock. I killed many in a way that seemed like murder 
as they struggled in the snow. My conscience reproached 
me but as they were really needed for food I felt that 
the end justified the means. Prairie chickens I trapped 
easily and in great numbers. The most successful 
method employed was to simply set a large box-like 
structure on the ground bottom up with a trap door in 
the top. To this door I placed a trail of grains of corn. 
The birds sometimes came in from the prairies in im- 
mense flocks filling the trees near our house from top to 
bottom. To see a tree thus loaded with these fine birds 
is a thrilling sight. Some of them would alight on the 
snow and begin picking up the corn and soon some one 
of them would hop up on top of the trap and begin eat- 
ing the corn that was placed there. Then as the trap 
door was stepped on the bird would be precipitated into 

53 



the box or trap and the door would instantly close again. 
I have gone to one of these box traps and found it prac- 
tically full of prairie chickens. A dozen birds at one 
catch was nothing unusual and at times I have caught 
twice that number. 

The quail suffered severely during the winter storms. 
They burrowed under the snow for shelter and when the 
sleet came and covered the snow with ice the birds 
smothered and starved to death in the snow. 

During the long winter nights I spent much time read- 
ing and studying Audubon's "Birds of America," and 
listening to stories of the plains and mountains by my 
uncle Frank. 

I studied taxidermy in those early days. The art 
was little known at that time on the American continent, 
but I had read everything I could find in regard to it and 
devoted myself to the work very earnestly for several 
months after first making Iowa my home. The in- 
credible number of ducks, geese and cranes that swarmed 
over the prairie every spring and fall was an inspiration 
that would not be denied, and, to preserve to a slight ex- 
tent the memory of those wild creatures of the prairie 
through the long days of winter and through the years 
that were to come, I endeavored to mount in a complete 
state of preservation the best specimens that fell before 
my gun. 

The long, cold w r inter slowly wore away. The sun 
came farther and farther north in its daily journey across 
the heavens and the snow began to sink away from the 
hillsides and rivulets and streams began pouring down 
the slopes toward the river. The honk of the wild goose 
was heard again, the ash and cottonwood hung out 

•54 



their Huffy, bulging buds and spring with all its activity 
and life was here. The river became a tremendous 
flood, bearing on its broad bosom ice cakes, trees and 
logs and frothy foam. The stage line ran through brooks 
and pools and extended over slippery, splashy prairie. 



55 



CHAPTER V. 

PRING TIME in Iowa was an event. The warm 
south winds in the months of March and April 
brought geese, ducks and cranes in incredible 
numbers. It was then my delight to go out upon the 
prairie and become a part of the wild life about me. 
The whole earth seemed waking from its long sleep. 
The light of the sun was drawing from the ground the 
vapor that gave evidence of the disappearing frost. 
Water ran boisterously in the ditches, trickled down the 
hill sides and stood in puddles on the soggy prairie. 

Life was everywhere apparent. Civilization had not 
yet come, yet the sun's energy, its immense power in 
awakening all the dormant forces of the earth seemed 
more instinct with life than the same scenes today where 
civilization is supreme. 

The chief was never content to stay at my uncle's 
home for any great length of time without wandering 
far over the high prairies to the north and west of the 
town. Ostensibly he was hunting but occasionally it be- 
came apparent to me that he sometimes hunted scalps as 
well as the legitimate objects of the chase. 

The Sacs and Foxes and Musquakies were then in 
central Iowa and they camped frequently in the vicinity 
of Adel. In the woods along the river in the early spring 
they might be seen making sugar in the maple groves 
that bordered the stream. They tapped the trees and 

56 



ran the sap out of the holes in the trees along pieces or 
splinters of wood or bark into the receptacles made to 
receive it. They then boiled the sap in kettles and pans 
and made sugar of which they were very fond. 

I frequently came upon Indian encampments in the 
woods north of town when the snow had not yet en- 
tirely disappeared from the northern slopes of the hills 
and bluffs and almost invariably the red men, or rather 
the red women, were making sugar. It was one of the 
typical and sure signs of spring to see the gay ornaments 
of the Indians among the bare trees and of course also 
at that time the ice was grinding down the current of the 
nearby stream and the geese and ducks were overhead. 

The opening and relaxing of the frost bound earth in- 
vited our presence where all the manifold exhibitions of 
Nature's forces could be best observed. 

Accordingly the chief and I roamed far and wide over 
the prairies and in the woods along the streams. I sus- 
pected that some members of the Iowa tribes had suc- 
cumbed to my Pawnee friend's ferocity and prowess but 
always when I accompanied him he refrained from all 
warlike forays. 

On horse back and on foot we ranged over the 
primeval prairie. The chief on his pony with eagle 
feathers fluttering in its mane and tail was typical of the 
plains. 

I, on little Texas, for this was the name of my favorite 
steed, was a type characteristic of myself alone. 

Generally I carried my rifle but at times I took with 
me my double barreled fowling piece and hunted the 
waterfowl that abounded all over the prairie in count- 
less thousands. In the sky above they streamed north- 

57 



ward in a glorious array of clanging, care free abandon. 
On the prairie sod and in the multitude of ponds that 
sparkled everywhere among the reeds and rushes of the 
swales and sloughs their numbers were equally abundant. 

I enjoyed the thrill of bringing down immaculate 
swans, snow-white and beautiful upon the prairie sod. 
Enormous pelicans and an occasional crane fell before 
my aim. Exultant, bouyant and full of the joy of life I 
watched the great world of Nature awake at the touch of 
spring. I have seen the cranes far up in the blue of the 
sky of a bright spring day, have seen them circle slowly 
and ponderously with dangling legs, have seen the geese, 
steady and unwavering, moving swiftly past the circling 
cranes on their way to their far northern home, and have 
entered into the wild joy of living as I have never done 
before or since. 

Later in the season when the great flight of waterfowl 
had passed and when the reeds and rushes were green 
around the ponds and sloughs I have stood again on the 
prairie and have seen the young ducks and geese and 
swans learning their first lessons as they sallied forth 
into the great world of Nature teeming with life. Every- 
where the young of all species of animals and birds were 
coming forth. Peopling the earth with their kind, the 
waterfowl, the prairie hen, the deer, the elk, the coyote, 
were all bringing forth their broods and litters. 

It was a wonderful sight. The prairie was alive and 
swarming. The prairie hen fluttered up before me and 
feigning injury attempted to draw me in her pursuit 
while her young skulked in the grass and hid until I had 
passed by. Nests full of pure smooth eggs were easily 
discovered almost anywhere in the prairie grass. Cack- 

68 



ling and booming of chickens in the early morning re- 
sounded over the land and call of snipe and curlew and 
joyous quacking and screaming of waterfowl filled the 
air. 

In the late spring and early summer elk calves were 
plentiful on the high lands northwest of town and back 
from the woods along the river. The chief and I and 
other young men from the town sometimes ran down 
and captured these calves and brought them to the 
village and put them in corrals and kept them until they 
were grown. Some attempt was made to break them for 
driving but with little success. They were generally 
quite ungovernable whenever any impulse or whim 
seized their fancy and would bolt across fields and 
through the woods beyond the control of their drivers. 

Sometimes also the eggs of the wild swan or goose or 
duck were brought to the village and put under domestic 
hens for hatching with results that were fairly success- 
ful. Troops of these wild birds were occasionally seen 
on the pools and ponds around the edge of the village 
but generally before the season was over, unless their 
wings were clipped, they would mount skyward and fol- 
low their wild brethren to their haunts far* from the 
abode of man. 

One day the chief and I were returning from one of 
our trips upon the prairie. We were far to the north- 
west of the village and not a house or sign of civilization 
was in sight. The chief was galloping leisurely along 
on his pony and I on my steed was following. Sud- 
denly the chief drew rein and carefully scanned the 
ground. Something had attracted his attention that evi- 
dently was different from the trails of wild animals 

59 



which we so frequently came upon. In a moment he 
apprised me of the fact that it was an Indian trail. I 
had scarcely time to draw my breath when he had thrown 
himself from his pony and had handed me the rein of 
bull hide with which he controlled it and had disap- 
peared in the grass. He had thrown himself prone upon 
the ground and had gone like a shadow from my sight 
while I turned and galloped away, as he had directed, 
over a ridge in the opposite direction. 

As I sat behind the ridge I speculated much upon 
what might be the outcome of the chief's adventure. 
Probably he would return with a scalp unless the num- 
ber of the enemy were too great. I had not long to wait, 
however, before he returned with a most crestfallen ap- 
pearance and without any scalp to prove his success. 

With the most abject manner he informed me that 
the Indians were Sioux. That there were six of them, 
and that they were all sick with smallpox. 

This was, indeed, unexpected news. The chief in an 
almost ludicrous manner hastily mounted his pony and 
set out like a whipped dog for home. But I was not in 
such a hurry. By much persuasion I prevailed upon my 
savage companion to stop for a moment and inform me 
of the true condition of the Sioux. I was informed that 
they were all very sick, that two or three were almost 
dead and that the others were unable to stand up or 
walk. Instantly I told the chief to continue on his way, 
and wheeling about I rode back to the point where we 
had discovered the trail and followed it to where the 
Indians lay. Before allowing me to return, however, the 
chief in a most solemn and awe stricken manner remon- 
strated with me and attempted to dissuade me from my 



60 



purpose. He dramatically and eloquently and with 
many gestures described the horrors of the disease. 
Like the leaves in autumn before the frost men fell be- 
fore the great plague. Like stricken dogs they crawled 
into their hovels to die in misery and woe. "Come," 
said the chief, "No stay, go." 

I disregarded his advice and entreaties and was soon 
in the midst of the stricken Sioux. While in college in 
the east I had been vaccinated but had subsequently had 
the smallpox though in a comparatively mild form. I 
therefore did not fear the disease. 

The savages had taken refuge in some dry grass be- 
hind a slight ridge where they were protected from the 
wind and had there lain themselves down to die like 
wolves that have been stricken with disease or poison. 
In fact I could not resist the feeling that I was dealing 
with wolves or dogs as the shifting, rolling eyes of the 
sufferers looked up at me in their misery. They looked 
as I have seen dogs look when stricken with rabies, and 
also they looked as dogs look when momentarily expect- 
ing to be knocked on the head. 

I made my bed a few yards from the savages and 
occasionally in the night I cooled the fevered brows with 
water from a nearby pond. During the night however 
three of the Indians died and the morning was not far 
advanced before two more had succumbed to the disease. 

The sixth savage, however, showed signs of recover- 
ing and I continued my efforts to save him. I killed and 
cooked a young mallard duck over a little fire I made 
on the ground and the savage ate a portion of it with evi- 
dent relish. I remained with him throughout the day and 
the next night. The following morning I felt sure that he 

61 



would recover. Fearing that when he had done so he 
might desire my scalp I decided to leave him. Accord- 
ingly I killed a half dozen ducks, roasted them over the 
coals of my camp fire, left them at the redskin's side, 
mounted my horse and set out for home. 

Arriving within hailing distance of my uncle's home 
I had another suit of clothes brought out to me. I then 
disrobed, took a plunge in the river, put on the clean 
clothes, built a fire and burned the clothes I had been 
wearing and returned to the house. Neither my uncle 
nor Joe Burgess nor the chief could fathom my conduct. 
Why I should be so concerned about a party of Sioux 
Indians who would have taken my scalp if they could 
have had the chance, they could not understand. The 
chief was totally mystified but his superstition had 
gained the upper hand and he attributed my actions in 
part at least to some supernatural influence. I, how- 
ever, was quite content. I would have done the same 
for a dog and why not for a Sioux Indian? Luckily I was 
none the w 7 orse for my experience and luckily none of the 
others at my uncle's house ever came down with the 
disease. 



62 



CHAPTER VI. 

ONE MORNING as the sun arose in splendor over 
the eastern hills I decided to pay a visit to Julia 
King. Taking my uncle's boat I launched it on the 
swift current of the stream and went flying along with 
the ice and logs and foam toward Fort Des Moines. It 
was a grand trip, down the lonely, rushing river. The 
hardy trees mantled the rugged shores and as each suc- 
ceeding bend of the stream came into view the solitude 
and silence of the wilderness impressed itself upon me. 
Alone on the surface of the stream I watched the chang- 
ing view with rapt attention. It was as if I was the first 
human being in the world to navigate this far inland cur- 
rent. This thought alone was a source of great satisfac- 
tion to me, for I dreaded the advance of civilization and 
the coming of the time when Europe's millions should 
pour into the solitudes of the new world and desecrate 
its silent majesty and its incomparable grandeur. Little 
did I realize what that desecration would really be but 
a kind of intuitive sense of the brazen desolation that 
was to come filled me with an instinctive dislike for the 
advancing wave of humankind. I felt that not one in a 
hundred, indeed, not even one in a thousand of the 
human beings who would pour into this virgin land 
would have any appreciation of its beauty, of its natural 
wealth and of its freedom. I had seen enough of the re- 
sults of civilization farther east to make me aware of the 



crass brutality and the mercenary motives that governed 
it. To slay, mutilate and destroy seemed to be its grand 
purpose, its inevitable result. To see beasts of men be- 
yond the reach of law slaughter and destroy the fair 
products of Nature's hundreds and thousands of years 
of evolutionary growth made me hate my kind. Trees, 
waters and game to those who were sweeping westward 
were nothing except as they could be turned to account 
from a mercenary point of view. Far inland along the 
lonely streams and upon the unknown plains and in the 
uncharted mountains the indefatigable hunter and trapper 
lived his lonely life in Nature's tremendous environment. 
These hardy men who had pushed their way far toward 
the setting sun and who had risked their lives to do so I 
knew loved the land they roamed over and appreciated 
its unparalleled magnificence. With these men I had 
the deepest sympathy. Risking their lives in the land of 
marauding Cheyenne or Arapahoe or in the country of 
terrible Sioux or in other equally dangerous surround- 
ings, they trapped and hunted in solitude that they might 
enjoy the wild free land where civilization had never 
come. Implacable Sioux or cruel Commanche was 
much to be preferred by them to the tumult and arti- 
ficialities of civilization. Theirs was a deep, true love 
for the great plains, for the forests, the mountains and 
the wild game. Far better to die at the hands of the 
savage than to live in civilization's onward sweep of de- 
struction. To avoid civilization and to go beyond the 
sound of falling trees and the sight of slaughtered game 
and upturned soil was the one thought that possessed 
them. 



G4 



This thought possessed my mind also as I floated 
swiftly down the icy stream. 

For some reason, as I floated down the current, I had 
a dismal foreboding that something was wrong and that 
my journey would not have a happy end. Drawing my 
boat up on the river bank after arriving at the site of the 
old fort, I hastened with the blood pounding in my 
temples, to the house of the brother-in-law of Julia King, 
There I was informed that she had gone. That she had 
left for the east a week or more ago and that she might 
and she might not return again in the fall. I felt as 
though someone had poured moulten lead upon my 
heart but I set about at once preparing for my return 
journey to my uncle's home at Adel. I knew it would 
avail me nothing to follow Julia King. I knew it would 
do more harm than good. Accordingly with sinking 
heart I waited till the stage should depart on its western 
journey to Council Bluffs and as I waited I knew what 
course I would pursue. I hardly dared admit it to my- 
self but I knew nothing could keep me from it. I knew 
that I would join one of the many wagon trains that 
passed westward through Adel and with it would cross 
the plains to the Rocky Mountains. With this thought 
in mind I returned to my uncle's home and began at 
once to make my preparations. My uncle did not readily 
approve my decision but he sensed the fact that some- 
thing had gone wrong and revering as he did the name 
of King and respecting deeply my feelings, he had little 
to say. As the days went by, however, and as he watched 
me making preparations for my departure he became 
more and more interested and to my great surprise 
finally decided to go with me. • 

65 



The chief also decided to make the journey. He was 
desirous of returning to his people, but not caring to travel 
with a wagon train he concluded to remain behind until 
we were well on our way and then proceed so as to over- 
take us near the Pawnee village oh the Platte. 

Joe Burgess was left in charge of the farm and as the 
chilly winds of April gave way to the soft airs of May 
the prairie schooners of the emigrant trains began pass- 
ing through our little town. They followed the state 
road or stage line westward toward the Missouri river. 
Many, however, stopped in Dallas county. Passing 
through the village the settlers began pitching their 
camps on the prairies at the western edge of the town. 
Staking out claims they entered their land with the 
government, paid perhaps a dollar or a dollar and a 
half per acre and received a patent. Other emigrants 
entered land immediately west of where these settlers 
had staked out their claims and others in turn settled 
immediately west of them. In an almost endless pro- 
cession the settlers kept coming and it took only half an 
eye to see that it would not be long until the major part 
of the land between our town and the Missouri river 
would be taken up. 

A green velvety carpet of grass had sprung up on the 
prairie when my uncle and I joined one of the wagon 
trains on its journey westward. I had my favorite saddle 
horse and another pack animal, my rifle, two revolvers, 
a hunting knife and plenty of ammunition. My uncle 
had an outfit that practically duplicated mine. The first 
night out we pitched camp on the prairie. Our camp 
fires were burning brightly and the coyotes were begin- 



66 



ning to serenade us discordantly from the surrounding 
ridges. 

We sat by the fire for some time in silence. A few 
moments later my uncle and I were wrapped in our 
robes under one of the wagons. The horses occasionally 
moved restlessly about or audibly munched the short 
grass just appearing on the prairie; the flicker of the 
fires shone now and then along the line of wagons, the 
stars twinkled brightly overhead as the emigrants sank 
to sleep. 

As all sounds of the camp ceased, except the steady 
grinding of a few of the horses as they continued eating 
after the others gave themselves up to rest from the 
fatigue of the day, I lay quietly and listened to the deep 
silence of the night. It may not be correct to say that I 
listened to the silence, but I at least sensed it and felt 
it. Sometimes the quiet of the night was broken by the 
dismal howling of wolves, sometimes the sound of a 
flock of geese passing overhead came down to the slum- 
ber-shrouded ground. Sometimes a sense of the near- 
ness of some prowling beast came over me as I lay in the 
great silence and again I would think that I heard the re- 
treating steps of the animal as it slunk away from our 
dying fires. 

When morning dawned we were up and soon had our 
mules and horses and oxen hitched to the ponderous 
wagons. Having eaten the breakfast prepared over the 
campfires we were soon under way. The dozen or more 
white topped wagons moved slowly off over the prairie 
toward the golden West. Prairie chickens were flying 
hither and thither over the prairie, the breeze was fresh 
and cool, the sun flamed up in glory in the east and the 

67 



train of hardy men, women and children moved slowly 
on toward the Missouri river beyond which lay the won- 
derful plains. The slow moving caravan gave me abun- 
dant opportunity to dash wildly off to right or left in 
pursuit of deer or other game. Wild swans and geese 
frequently alighted on the high swells of the prairie and 
many a time I spent hours in stalking them. I would 
ride as near as I could without putting them up and then 
leaving my horse I would follow the ravines or swales 
until I came near enough to get a shot. Many times I 
missed, but very often a snow-white swan or a Canadian 
goose would fall to my rifle as the bullet drilled it 
through. Sometimes I returned to the wagon train with 
as many as three or four of the birds dangling from my 
saddle and all shot with the rifle as they stood on the 
green sward of the prairie. 

I shall never forget my first sight of the Missouri 
river. From a high hilltop east of the river I looked 
across to the plains on the western shore and saw my 
first buffalo. Soon two or three others came in sight. 
They browsed the grass rather lazily or stood silently 
in the sunlight. As I looked an Indian suddenly ap- 
peared on the sky line and galloped rapidly southward. 
Feathers fluttered gaily from his lance and from the 
mane and tail of his little pony. The raw, bold head- 
lands or bluffs loomed grimly along the river. The plains 
stretched away westward limitless, wonderful, entranc- 
ing. We looked across the wide muddy river to the site 
of the city of Omaha, then a rather straggling and very 
raw and crude and very small settlement standing at the 
entrance to and forming the gateway of the golden 
West. 

68 



After a great deal of labor and much shouting and 
swearing we got our train across the river. There were 
no bridges across the Missouri at this point at that time. 
We got our wagons and horses and mules and oxen across 
on the ferry and on rafts. 

We spent a day in Omaha resting and fitting out our 
train. 

Indians were encamped about the little settlement. 
They were engaged in trading with the whites, horse- 
racing and lolling lazily about their tepees. White 
ruffians, gamblers and thieves were about the little build- 
ings and setting out across the plains. Trappers and 
hunters of better character and sterner mold were also to 
be seen about the camps and in front of the little stores. 
With long rifles and deer skin shirts and leggins and 
coonskin caps they were typical of the better element of 
the plains. Their leathery, weather-beaten faces ap- 
peared to have faced a "thousand storms" and their 
quiet demeanor and steady blue-gray eyes were eloquent 
of their hardihood and their fearlessness in the face of 
danger. 

Next morning we set out westward on the great over- 
land trail. 



69 



CHAPTER VII. 

QT THE TIME when the wagon train which we had 
joined started slowly westward over the Overland 
trail the Missouri river marked the division line 
between the east and the true west in the United States. 
Behind us lay the eastern half of the continent won for 
the most part to civilization. Before us lay the western 
half as wild and barbaric as the steppes of Asia. Civili- 
zation had made but little impress upon the vast extent of 
plain and mountain that stretched away toward the set- 
ting sun. A few famous trails crossed the plains to the 
Rocky mountains and two of them extended over the 
mountains to the Pacific coast. Along these trails lay the 
whitened bones of horses and men and women and chil- 
dren who had paid with their lives for their temerity in 
setting out over the almost endless and lonely highways 
across the western half of the continent. From points on 
the Missouri river between Kansas City and St. Joseph the 
two most famous trails extended westward. The Santa 
Fe proceeding toward the southwest invaded the arid 
region of the warring Commanches and Apaches. The 
Oregon, or California and Oregon trail proceeding to- 
ward the northwest, ran up the valley of the Platte to Ft. 
Laramie and thence through the mountains to Salt Lake 
and across the terrible deserts to California and Oregon. 
The whole vast region was the home of the Indian and 
buffalo. In untrammeled freedom wild man and wild 

70 



beast roamed the boundless lands. In countless thou- 
sands the buffalo darkened the plains; in many millions 
his shaggy herds came up from the south when the 
northern prairies turned green with the first touch of 
spring and spread his vast numbers over the high wild 
prairies of the north. In the southwest the fierce and 
blood-thirsty Gommanche and marauding Apache waged 
relentless war on the brave pioneers and adventurers 
who risked their lives on the Santa Fe trail. In the 
middle west the great nation of Pawnees roamed in un- 
restrained freedom over the sunlit prairies along the 
Platte and Republican rivers. In constant warfare with 
all surrounding tribes the once great and powerful nation 
later became reduced to a miserable remnant of their 
former strength and glory. But at the time our caravan 
set out westward toward the setting sun they were still 
very powerful in the lands they called their home and 
constituted a picturesque and barbaric banditti which 
roamed far and wide over the lands traversed by the 
Oregon trail. To the north of them lived the Sioux, that 
great and powerful nation of the north, fierce and im- 
placable enemies of their neighbors on the south and 
never happier than when on warlike expeditions against 
their hereditary enemies. To the west toward the moun- 
tains were the Cheyennes and Arapahoes, scarcely less 
blood-thirsty than the Pawnees and Sioux, and farther 
west in the mountains traversed by the Oregon trail were 
the Blackfeet, the Crows, the Piutes and the Umatillas. 
Many other tribes, of course, lived in these regions of the 
far west but none more proud and none more formidable 
in war and none more typical of the land in which they 
lived. 



71 



A part of this land of freedom had only recently been 
under discussion in the Congress of the United States as 
a land properly subject to the curse of slavery and had 
been suggested by leading statesmen as a land that 
should become a place of bondage. Three years before 
our departure from Omaha with the wagon train, Con- 
gress had passed the Kansas-Nebraska bill which had re- 
pealed the famous Missouri compromise and had pro- 
vided that "The Territory of Nebraska, or any portion 
of the same, when admitted as a state or states, shall be 
received into the Union with or without slavery, as their 
constitutions may prescribe at the time of their admis- 
sion." The bill further provided that all questions per- 
taining to slavery in the territories and new states to be 
formed from them should be left to the people residing 
in those states. 

This put in effect what was known as Squatter Sov- 
ereignty and was undoubtedly for the purpose of estab- 
lishing slavery in territory which the Missouri com- 
promise had declared to be forever free. And in the 
very year in which we set out Westward across the 
plains the Supreme Court of the United States handed 
down its opinion in the Dred Scott case, which prac- 
tically sustained the whole Southern claim in regard to 
territory west of the Missouri river and which allowed 
slave owners to take slaves into that territory and which 
held the Missouri Compromise to be unconstitutional and 
void. However, in regard to the territory immediately 
west of the Missouri river division of Nebraska territory 
into Kansas and Nebraska was advocated by leading 
citizens of Iowa to the end that it would be advanta- 
geous to have the capital of an important commonwealth 

72 



directly opposite them and that it would aid in fixing 
the route of the proposed railroad to the Pacific coast 
which was even at that time under discussion. The citi- 
zens of Iowa desired the proposed road to be established 
on the northern route, or through what is now the state 
of Nebraska, to the end that traffic from Chicago to the 
Pacific coast would pass through central Iowa. 

We were therefore setting out over the route subse- 
quently selected for the Union Pacific railroad, but how 
different was the old trail which we traveled over from 
that over which 4he palatial trains now speed westward 
to the far off ocean. 

As we set out with the ponderous wagons and slow- 
moving oxen and mules we encountered many obstacles 
in our path and many things to beset our progress. The 
prairie was green with the grass of spring, but owing to 
recent rains its soft sod allowed the wheels of the 
heavily loaded wagons to cut into the ground and made 
our progress slow. Occasionally a small stream or creek 
had to be crossed and often it was with the greatest diffi- 
culty that we succeeded in getting the wagons over. In 
the evenings as we pitched camp a legion of frogs set up 
a joyous croaking and mosquitoes sallied forth to annoy 
and harass us as we prepared the evening meal. Good 
drinking water was at a premium as tad-poles and other 
forms of swarming life filled the water from which we 
were compelled to draw our supply. Splashing through 
the boggy creek bottoms or walking near our camp an 
army of snakes (as it seemed to the disgusted emigrants) 
glided from about our feet and wriggled away in all di- 
rections. The first night out the sun went down in a 
clear sky yet we were destined to know how little con- 

73 



fidence could be placed in that promise of fair weather. 
The air had that peculiar softness and chill combined 
which is characteristic of early spring. As the chill of 
evening settled down the emigrants began preparing the 
fires for the camp. Wood was exceedingly scarce and it 
was with the greatest difficulty that the fires were kindled. 
Before very long, however, the fires began to gleam among 
the lengthening shadows and as the stars came out they 
imparted a certain cheer to our lonely encampment. At 
this camp, at the suggestion of my uncle, the wagons 
were formed in a circle and certain members of the 
emigrants were detailed to keep watch through the 
night. The night was divided into three watches each 
one of which was to be allotted to a certain one of three 
persons selected. 

While the camp fires were burning the emigrants 
who were not busy with the horses and stock or who 
were not occupied with the preparations of supper, 
stolled about the wagons and fires. A young lady, who 
had attracted our attention during the journey, ap- 
peared strolling leisurely among the campfires. She was 
a typical American girl in appearance, having the fresh- 
ness and bloom of youth and the charm of fine features 
and a fine figure. Her clear, pink skin and bright brown 
eyes were glorious testimony of a rugged constitution and 
splendid health. Her step was firm and elastic, her 
figure well rounded and of about the average height. 
Her name was Vivian Butler. I spent several evenings 
in pleasant conversation with her. 

That night I kept the first watch. An hour or more 
after the emigrants had sunk to sleep fitful flashes of 
lightning wavered around the western horizon. The 

74 



flashes became more vivid and soon deep muttering 
thunder began to roll ominously along the western sky. 
The bright glare of the lightning revealed a strip of sky 
along the horizon and cast the sky above, where the 
clouds seemed to be hanging, in inky blackness. In a 
moment more there came the rain. It came across the 
prairie in a steady, roaring torrent. The lightning 
flashed across the zenith. The thunder crashed with an 
ear-splitting bang and went roaring and reverberating 
across the heavens like the artillery of giants. One 
moment our white wagon tops stood out as though in a 
calcium glare and the next were submerged in the black- 
ness of pitchy darkness. Sometimes the flashes seemed 
to reveal objects of a startling nature on the prairie but 
we were not molested and apparently the shapes and 
shadows which I had taken for galloping horsemen were 
entirely products of the imagination. Once, however, a 
wolf ran almost under the wagon and I plainly saw his 
shining eyes in the glare of light as he frantically altered 
his course and sped like a guilty demon away into the 
darkness. As the sound of the rain was first heard beat- 
ing down upon the prairie I made the rounds of the 
camp and aroused the men sleeping under the wagons. 
They in turn prepared themselves and the women in the 
wagons as best they could for the approaching storm. 
Some of the men crawled in the wagons where, with tar- 
paulins and buffalo robes, they huddled under the can- 
vas wagon tops when the storm descended upon us. 
With my blanket and a buffalo robe and a tarpaulin I 
ensconsed myself under the leeward side of one of the 
wagons and like a primitive red man of the plains 
humped up in as small a space as possible and meekly 

75 



watched the storm. For half an hour or more the rain 
descended in torrents and then suddenly ceased. The 
thunder continued to roll and roar breaking overhead in 
a tremendous outburst and thumping and pounding 
across the sky and dying away in the distance. Gradually 
the detonations became less and less frequent and no 
sound was heard except the restless moving about of the 
oxen and horses and the occasional low cursing that 
sounded from under some wagon cover as the water 
trickled down the neck of one of the occupants. A star 
came out overhead and then another and another until 
the western half of the heavens were set with many 
twinkling orbs. The lightning continued to waver among 
the clouds in the east and the thunder continued to 
mutter as the receding clouds withdrew like a retreating 
army whose hosts had thrown themselves against a su- 
perior force of the enemy. The thunder fired a few 
parting shots as it sullenly left the field to the uncon- 
quered stars. Serene and beautiful they appeared above 
the lonely prairie. 

A coyote, despite the lateness of the hour, suddenly 
set up a medley of outrageous howls and barks. For a 
moment the uncanny wailing and yelping resounded on 
the stillness of the night and then all was still again. 
The silence was impressive and palpable. For a moment 
I was given over to introspection and reflection. "Here 
I am," thought I, "on a plain so wide and lonely that it 
is like an uncharted ocean. The stars are here the way- 
farer's guide at night as they are the mariner's on the 
sea. And life here as on the sea is so close to God that 
one feels within speaking distance. One hardly dares to 
utter the thoughts that rise within him here. So plainly 



the present merges into the hereafter, so plainly life 
merges into the great beyond." All about me was the 
wild and lonely prairie; all around me and not far 
away were savage beasts and savage men. On every 
side was the raw, primitive, physical world, yet as the 
stars shone out overhead they communed with me in 
the language of the soul. The ever present physical 
melted away and was as nothing to the all pervading 
spiritual. I spread my buffalo robe and tarpaulin on the 
saturated soil and wrapping myself in my dry blanket 
sank to rest with the lesson of God's teaching written 
deeply in my heart. 

Next morning I was awakened by my uncle who was 
busily engaged about the camp. Getting breakfast was a 
sore trial on account of the wetness and scarcity of fuel. 
My uncle's previous experience on the plains stood him 
in good stead. He had carefully husbanded the fuel of 
the evening before and had stored the unused portion of 
it in one of the wagons out of reach of the rain. A pile 
of bois de vache or buffalo chips lay under one of the 
wagons where he had piled them the night before. 
Sheltered to a certain extent from the rain they served 
fairly well as fuel and aided materially in our prepara- 
tions of the morning meal. 

The sun blazed up gloriously over the eastern horizon 
as we were hitching up the mules and oxen. The mules 
kicked out viciously here and there as they were being 
harnessed by the emigrants. How some of the mule- 
teers avoided the heels of the malicious beasts I was un- 
able to understand. 

We ate our breakfast of bacon and bread and coffee 
with a fine relish and were soon once more moving 

77 



slowly westward. The faces of women and children 
peeped out from under the canvass of the wagon tops 
and the men and boys walked beside the train or rode on 
horseback. 

Our slow and patient progress was typical of the way 
the West was won for civilization. With plodding ox- 
team and ponderous wagon the American pioneer braved 
the dangers of a pagan host, of storm and flood, of cold 
and heat and starvation that he might win for himself 
and family a home and establish in the wonderful west 
the foundation of civilization for his descendants who 
were to come after he had passed to his final resting 
place. Nowhere in the world were primitive inhabi- 
tants of any land more fierce and warlike, more cruel 
and treacherous than the red men who roamed the great 
plains between the Missouri river and the Rocky moun- 
tains. Like demons incarnate they swooped down upon 
the slow moving wagon trains from their hiding places 
behind the surrounding ridges. Woe be to the emigrant 
train that was not sufficiently prepared to meet them. 
Many an Indian bit the dust at the crack of the emi- 
grant's rifle and many a red man was carried off dead 
on the pony to which he had securely tied himself before 
making the assault. But if the emigrants were so out- 
numbered by their savage foe as to succumb to the at- 
tack, no death could be worse, no slaughter more hor- 
rible than that inflicted upon the hardy pioneers who 
fondly traveled toward the golden West. Children and 
babies were snatched from their mother's arms by coarse- 
featured savages with eyes burning in their heads with 
the lust of blood. Babies' brains were dashed out with 
war clubs and butts of guns, women were brained with 

78' 



tomahawks or spared to be carried away to a captivity 
that was worse than death. Men were shot down and 
scalped and the reeking trophy held on high while 
pandemonium reigned supreme as the yelling, whooping 
band applied themselves to the slaughter. The massacre 
complete, fire completed the destruction of all inflam- 
mable things not appropriated while the savage horde 
scoured off over the ridges on the hardy ponies with the 
emigrant's cattle, horses and mules driven before them. 

But all these things did not deter the grim-visaged 
pioneer. With dauntless courage and tenacity of pur- 
pose he continued to send wagon trains across the plains 
to the Rocky mountains. Many a lonely grave was made 
beside the great overland trails, mute testimony that 
mother, daughter or babe had perished amid the hard- 
ships and privations of the plains. Howled over by the 
wolves, their bones dug up and scattered far and wide 
they whitened beneath scorching suns and freezing 
snows. But civilization could not be denied. On, on 
came the westward flood of wagon trains. Westward, 
ever westward came the wave of human beings seeking 
their fortunes in the golden West. Far westward on the 
shore of the Pacific ocean the discovery of gold in the 
strangely fascinating mountains of California had served 
as an attraction to lure our people westward as no other 
cause could have done. On the extreme western edge 
of the continent it came as a splendid thing for national 
development, bridging at once the vast distance between 
the then frontier states of the Mississippi valley and the 
Pacific coast. A few years later Abraham Lincoln advo- 
cated the building of a railroad from the Missouri river 
to the Pacific coast not only as a military necessity but 

79 



for the purpose of binding the Union together. The dis- 
covery of gold before the building of the railroad served 
a great purpose in first attracting our people to the gold 
fields and in starting the westward movement and carry- 
ing it not only across the plains but over the mountains to 
the Pacific. 

Occasionally in our own train as we journeyed west- 
ward we saw evidence along the trail of the great emi- 
gration to California. Now and then a ferry would be 
found on some of the larger streams which it was neces- 
sary to cross. The remains of campfires all along the 
way and the occasional writing seen on the whitened 
skulls of buffalo all marked the way of one of the most 
momentous pilgrimages on the surface of the earth. 
Once or twice we came upon furniture beautifully and 
curiously carved which had been cast aside by the owners 
and left exposed to the sun and rain and the wind and 
snow of the prairies. Transported as far as their 
owner's ability would permit, they were finally sacri- 
ficed, and that man and beast might get to their journey's 
end alive, the encumbering relics were cast aside. 

Ours was to be no different from the experience of 
those who had gone before. Hardship, danger and 
death, could we have foreseen our fate, was to be the lot 
of our wagon train to a greater extent than even those 
which had preceded us. We realized the dangers of the 
trail in a vague way, yet to the men, at least, of those 
overland expeditions the spirit of adventure entirely 
overbalanced the idea of fear and we, like all the rest, 
proceeded on our way happier than we had ever been in 
our lives as we felt ourselves entering upon the field 
where a man's a man. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Y?<OW SHALL I tell of the things that we saw and ex- 
X-JJ perienced along the Platte River in what is now 
the State of Nebraska? Truly it was a primitive 
region in which we found ourselves. There we saw the 
sluggish stream lying in the sunlight as it has lain for 
unnumbered generations. We saw the clumps of buffalo 
grass in the sandhills round about. We saw the rattle- 
snakes and we saw the wolves sneaking, as Francis 
Parkman has said, like "conscious felons" among the 
ridges and through the ravines and hollows. We saw 
the little owls sitting on the sand dunes, and we saw the 
prairie dogs. We saw and felt and deeply sensed the 
utter loneliness and desolation of the wild and bar- 
barous scenes that surrounded us. It was, nevertheless, 
a wonderful experience, and I would not have been 
without it for all the treasures in the world, for with all 
its barbarous nature, and with all its desolation and 
loneliness, I enjoyed it with a sense of appreciation and 
understanding which I could not describe in words. The 
wolves that howled at night upon the hillsides, and 
whose eyes shown occasionally in the reflection of our 
firelight, afforded sweet and harmonious music to my 
soul. And the reason it was so is plain. I was there 
as I had been in Iowa, enjoying the full vigor of life. 
There is scarcely anything that is not enjoyable when 
one is in the full possession of his faculties and his 

81 



strength and vigor. I thought what a really terrible and 
tragical experience it would have been for me had I been 
in the condition that I was in before I crossed the 
Mississippi River into Iowa. I thought how the shim- 
mering heat that wavered in its mysterious and alluring 
way over the sand dunes would have been a blighting 
and overcoming influence upon my life had I been the 
weak and suffering person that I was before I came west- 
ward. I thought of how the howling of the wolves 
would have sent shivers along my spine and of how the 
loathsome snakes that crawled and scuttled off through 
the buffalo grass and sage brush would have horrified 
my whole being, had I lacked the strength and hardi- 
hood and confidence which I at that time was fortunate 
enough to possess. I thought of how fear would have 
overcome me at the thought of the lurking savages that I 
knew watched our progress as we crept westward over 
the desolate plains. I thought of how the vultures that 
swung high in the heavens in the dazzling light of the 
sun would have seemed to be waiting to feast not only 
upon my body but upon my very soul, had I been in the 
condition that I was in before I came westward to find my 
health and fortune. I thought of what a terrible thing 
nature would have seemed to me in her harsher and 
crueler moods had I been in that condition of which 
I am now speaking. I thought of how utterly help- 
less I would have felt and of how the tragedy of the 
weak would have been mine and of how perhaps I 
would have sunk down upon the sands like a stricken 
wolf or an outcast and wounded beast to die alone upon 
the prairie without the possibility of help coming to my 
aid. I looked about me and I saw the relentless forces 

82 



of nature; saw the coarse, brutal, unfeeling features of 
savages; saw the coarse buffalo grass waving in the wind 
and the wild yellow flowers occasionally nodding in the 
passing breeze. I looked over the sand dunes and 
through the shimmering heat waves that played over the 
landscape, and as I did so and thought of the tragedy of 
it all, I seemed to look through and back of and beyond 
the quivering light and heat and seemed to see and feel 
the very mystery of life itself. And upon the primeval 
and barbarous plains I seemed to look behind the veil 
and see life's very source and origin. I seemed to get a 
grip on life that I had never had before. I seemed to get 
hold of it and understand it as I had never done before. 
I thought of the crowded centers of civilization in the 
East and the institutions of civilization that were grow- 
ing up there and I thought how I had failed to get a 
grip on life there as I was getting it on the wild and 
lonely sand dunes of what is now the State of Nebraska. 
I thought of the surging multitudes flowing up and down 
the city streets and wondered if the inhabitants of those 
crowded centers got any better hold on life there than I 
myself had had. It seemed to me that it was impossible, 
and that they could not do so. It seemed to me that the 
artificiality of their lives and the ceaseless struggle for 
wealth and position made any true understanding of the 
nature of existence almost out of the question. I had 
seen there the great buildings. I had seen the crowded 
streets. I had seen the offices and stores and I had at- 
tempted to work and gain a livelihood and make some- 
thing of myself in one of those offices, and I thought of 
the begrimed and dusty window panes and of the smoke- 
filled sky and of the distracting noises, and I thought of 

83 



what a tragedy life had been to me there. But away 
out west along the valley of the Platte, among the ruffian 
wolves and coyotes, I felt that I was getting hold of life 
in a way that never could be obtained elsewhere. The 
travelers along that mysterious and lonely stream in the 
middle of the great American Continent in that early day 
saw entirely different scenes from those that were seen 
by the wayfarer on the city streets of the Atlantic Sea- 
board. They saw loneliness and desolation but they saw 
the things of which life is made. As the poet of the 
western Sierras has said, 

They saw the silences 
Move by and beckon; saw the forms, 
The very beards, of burly storms, 
And heard them talk like sounding seas. 
They saw the snowy mountains rolled 
And heaved along the nameless land 
Like mighty billows; saw the gold 
Of awful sunsets; saw the blush 
Of sudden dawn, and felt the hush 
Of heaven when the day sat down 
And hid his face in dusky hands. 

And these things as we traveled westward over the 
Oregon Trail I myself saw. I saw the elk in the wild 
rocky glens of the distant mountains. I saw the grizzly 
bear in all his burly strength and majesty. I saw "the 
snowy mountains rolled along the nameless lands." All 
of these things I saw and enjoyed. The thrill of life to 
me there in that loneliness and in that primeval grandeur 
was greater and more wonderful than I had ever experi- 
enced before. Those were to me halcyon days. I shall 
never forget them. I rode my steed over the plains and 



84 



prairies with all the abandon and wild carefree enjoy- 
ment with which an Arab would ride over the steppes of 
Asia. I was in my element. There was nothing about 
the great West that I did not enjoy. I slept on the 
ground at night and looked up at the shining stars and 
I awoke in the morning to greet the sun with all the 
buoyancy and vigor that it is possible for a human be- 
ing to possess and exercise. This it was that made life 
to me on the western plains such a grand and splendid 
experience. Thoughts that surged through my mind 
while crossing the plains could only be fitly expressed by 
Browning's grand lines: 

"Oh, our manhood's prime vigour! No spirit feels waste, 
Not a muscle is stopped in its playing nor sinew unbraced. 
Oh, the wild joys of living! the leaping from rock up to rock, 
The strong rending of boughs from the fir-tree, the cool silver 

shock 
Of the plunge in a pool's living water, the hunt of the hear, 
And the sultriness showing the lion is couched in his lair. 
And the meal, the rich dates yellowed over with gold dust divine, 
And the locust-flesh steeped in the pitcher, the full draught of 

wine, 
And the sleep in the dried river-channel where bulrushes tell 
That the water was wont to go warbling so softly and well 
How good is man's life, the mere living! how fit to employ 
All the heart and the soul and the senses forever in joy." 

It is significant, it seems to me, that the lines which 
I have quoted which are perhaps the best ever written to 
express the splendor of life in its full enjoyment, deal 
with it entirely from a primitive standpoint. The lines of 
Browning do not suggest anything of civilization. They 
speak of Nature and suggest sources and origins. They 
get back to the vital virile realities of life. They ex- 

85 



press it grandly and beautifully. They imply perfect 
health and abounding strength and buoyancy of spirit. 
And this was the condition in which I found myself as we 
toiled westward over the Oregon Trail. To say that I 
was thankful and grateful for the condition in which 
I found myself, is to put it mildly. The relief that I felt 
from having been emancipated from the condition from 
which I had formerly been in, could not be expressed in 
words. It was the same, to a certain extent at least, as 
the relief expressed in the Book of Job when Job's 
misery passed and his emancipation came. I have asked, 
how can I tell of those wonderful nights and days? I 
can not tell of them I can only suggest in a feeble way 
the great things that I experienced there. And how can 
I tell of the difference between my condition at that time 
and my condition while I was in the East? I can not 
tell it. I can only feebly suggest it. I can not express 
my thanksgiving or my profound gratitude for the 
change. I can not tell the difference, for to do that 
would be to describe the difference between heaven and 
hell. It would be to tell on the one hand of life, and on 
the other hand of death. It would be to tell of the emanci- 
pation of the spirit from the loathsome bonds that had 
enchained it. If I could tell the difference between those 
conditions, I would tell my whole story. If I could tell 
what it means to suffer on the one hand, and to enjoy 
on the other, and how to be relieved of suffering and how 
to find joy, I would tell the story which I wish to impart 
to you. I enjoyed the great West and all its harsh 
barbarous conditions of course because I was myself in 
a condition to enjoy them. I would no doubt have en- 
joyed even civilization in the East, had I at that time 

86 



been in the condition which I found myself in when I 
was in the West. I would no doubt have enjoyed any- 
thing, even smoke and dirt and grimy window-panes 
and perhaps even the miserable petty business of com- 
mercial and professional life that existed there, had I 
felt the abounding vigor of life and strength and health 
that I felt on the lonely western plains and prairies. In 
other words, I could enjoy practically anything or any 
place, while enjoying good health and strength, but fail- 
ing that, I could not enjoy anything. It is simply a 
question of being weak or being strong. The strong 
are supreme, mighty, domineering and successful. They 
hold the reins of government and dictate the terms of 
success and failure. It is theirs to reign with absolute 
and unconditional sway. No despotism seated on a 
throne ever wielded a sceptre with more relentless and 
unfailing power. The strong rule the earth, and the 
weak succumb and submit weakly and tamely to their 
dominance. There is scarcely anything beyond the 
reach of the strong. It is theirs to delve, to work, to dis- 
cover, to invent, to shape and build up all fine things 
within the realm of human endeavor. It is theirs to en- 
joy all these things, to feel their own strength, their own 
comfort, their own magnificence. The earth is theirs 
and the fullness thereof. Scarcely anything is denied 
them. They live in a riot of exuberant feelings and of 
overflowing joys. There is scarcely anything beyond 
them, scarcely anything that is not theirs for the taking; 
scarcely anything that they can not reach and appro- 
priate, but on the other hand, there is scarcely anything 
for the weak, scarcely anything within their reach; 
scarcely anything that they can appropriate. Theirs it is 

ST 



to submit, to acquiesce, to obey. Theirs it is to do the 
bidding of the strong. Theirs it is to see all the fine 
things of life going elsewhere than into their own lives 
and homes and families. Theirs it is to see the pros- 
perity of the earth taken up and appropriated by those 
who are strong enough to take it. This is the greatest 
tragedy in the world. This tragedy of the weak and the 
strong spells the whole round of human endeavor. It is 
the constant struggle, the unending joy on one hand and 
the unending heartache on the other. It is bright 
glory to one-half of the world other things being equal 
and it is black despair to the other. It is success, bril- 
liant and beautiful to some, and failure dark and dis- 
couraging to others. To the weak there is no chance. 
It is theirs to suffer under the heritage of weakness. 
It is theirs to bear the burdens that come to those ap- 
parently foreordained and predestined to suffer failure 
and woe. It is theirs to fight the uneven fight, to wage 
the unfair struggle. The strong contemplate this cease- 
less struggle, this unending turmoil and glory in their 
strength. They pride themselves upon their victories 
and upon their successes. They congratulate themselves 
upon the battle waged and won. They are the victors 
in the strife. But the weak on the other hand, contem- 
plate this struggle and cower and shiver in the face of 
the onslaught. They know that they have no chance. 
They know that they are waging an unequal fight. They 
know that the odds are against them, that the cards have 
been stacked against them generations before they were 
born. They know that strive as they will, prepare as fchey 
will, fight as they will, they have no chance. They know it 
is not a matter of courage. They know it is not a matter 



of will power. They know it is not a matter of fortitude 
because any amount of those characteristics and quali- 
ties would not balance the scales against the strength of 
their adversaries. The battle is exactly the same as that 
between the modern battleship and one constructed many 
years ago. No amount of fortitude or courage on the 
part of the sailors of the old ship would make up for 
the strength of the guns mounted on the more modern 
foe. No amount of courage or hardihood on the part of 
the sailors of the doomed vessel would make their 
weapons shoot as far as those mounted on the new ship 
that simply is able to stand off out of reach and batter 
to pieces the old hulk which has no chance whatever in 
the combat. The struggle has always been so. In na- 
ture it has been so; on the plains and prairies of the 
West I saw that it was so. But you say there are laws 
of compensation and that what the weak lose in one re- 
spect they make up in another and that therefore the 
chances of the weak and the strong in the world are 
even. And I answer that of course there are laws of 
compensation but I also answer that they do not com- 
pensate to the extent which you say they do and that on 
the whole the inequality of the struggle is exactly as I 
have outlined it. 

I have related to you what health and strength meant 
to me there on the plains and I have suggested what 
weakness and poor health would have meant to me there. 
It would have meant exhaustion, sickness and death and 
a lonely grave by the side of the trail, whereas on the 
other hand, strength and hardihood meant the full joy 
of life and the full ability to cope with my environment. 
The same is true in civilization today. The struggle 

89 



takes on a little different form, but the results are the 
same. The weak go down to disgrace, wretchedness and 
failure. The strong rise to positions of triumph and vic- 
tory. The weak today are, if anything, even more 
miserable than were the weak in the early days upon the 
American Continent. In the great turmoil of civiliza- 
tion the weak if anything have less chance than they 
had upon the unfenced plains and prairies of the West. 
Theirs it is to see their comrades who are strong succeed. 
Theirs it is to drink the bitter cup of failure because 
they have no chance. Theirs it is to see wrong fre- 
quently triumph and elevated to the seats of the mighty 
and theirs it is to see righteousness trampled under foot 
and relegated to oblivion because there is not sufficient 
physical strength to maintain its principles. Theirs it 
is to see weakness ever relegated to the background of 
human affairs and theirs it is to see injustice sit in the 
seats of the mighty. "For he that hath, to him shall be 
given; and he that hath not from him shall be taken even 
that which he hath." 

Woe unto the weak. They have had handed down to 
them from generation to generation heritages of weak- 
ness. Theirs it is to struggle on and on, day after day, 
under the handicap of weakness which it is not possible 
to fully overcome. Theirs it is to inherit not only char- 
acteristics that are apparent and recognized by every 
one, but also things more subtle and more insidious in 
their nature that for the most part are hidden from the 
common gaze. These things are the tastes for evil 
habits and evil associates. They are handed down to 
them as part and parcel of their lives exactly to the 
same extent that characteristics of height or weight or 

90 



manner of speech are handed down. They are born in 
their make-up and are part of their personal lives and 
characteristics exactly to the same extent that the color 
of their eyes or the color of their hair are handed down 
to them. And for the most part they can no more 
change them than they could change the color of their 
eyes or the color of their hair. Much of the time they do 
not realize that these things are handed down to them 
in this way, and that they have been born with these 
characteristics which are a part of their individual 
make-up, but to a very great extent, they mark for them 
their place in the world and give to them their position 
either among the seats of the mighty or the filth and 
degradation of the weak and lowly. To such persons 
the gray walls of the city loom up like evil influences of 
the infernal regions. They see the vast throng of 
humanity round about them ready to engulf them as a 
tremendous flood would engulf the feeble swimmer. 
They feel as weak and helpless upon the human tide as 
a shipwrecked mariner would feel upon the bosom of the 
ocean. They know that they can not cope with their 
surroundings. They know that they are doomed to a 
miserable fate. 

Civilization today takes no better care of the weak 
than did peoples and tribes before civilization came. 
Science and religion and medicine contribute in a way to 
the bettering of the condition of mankind as a whole. 
They keep pace with the times and cope with conditions 
in such a way that perhaps they get no worse, but can it 
be said that they get any better? As new discoveries are 
made and as new inventions are brought forth, new 
epidemics occur and new plagues surge over the country. 

91 



In proportion there are just as many weak and they are 
just as badly off as they were in the earliest stages of 
man's history upon the globe. The condition remains a 
constant quantity. It is continual strife and struggle and 
humanity simply holds its own. The struggle is in a 
different form and upon a different plane, but its results 
are practically the same. "Will this always be so?" I 
said to myself, and as I thought of the rising tide of 
civilization that I knew would some day spread itself 
over the entire American Continent, I felt that unless 
there should be a radical change in the attitude of man 
toward life, that these conditions would always prevail 
and that there would be practically no progress. I felt 
that unless mankind got hold of life in a way that it had 
not heretofore done, that little would be accomplished 
toward bettering the condition of the world and as I 
thought of the cities with their smoke and dirt and as I 
thought of business and professions, I felt that there was 
little chance of men getting hold of life any better then 
than they had done. I felt that in fact the danger was 
that they would lose what weak hold they already had 
upon it. I felt that with the ideals of business and pro- 
fessional men and the ideals of commercialism wor- 
shipping as they do money for its own sake, and mate- 
rialism and material prosperity for their own sakes, 
that there would be little or no improvement in these 
things, and that perhaps there would be a retrogression. 
I felt that as civilization developed and that as popula- 
tion overran the continent and the entire world, that su- 
perficiality would become more and more prevalent and 
that a profound understanding of life would become less 
and less universal. I felt that all the distracting influ- 

92 



ences of civilization tended toward weakness of percep- 
tion and superficiality in thought. I felt that the deep 
convictions that came to those who sojourned in the 
realm of nature could never come to those who sojourned 
continually in the realm and turmoil of civilization. I 
felt that the profound ideals of life and the intimate 
relation to the Infinite that came to those who tended 
their flocks on the Judean hills could never come to the 
prosperous superficial business man. I felt that the more 
wealthy he became and the more engrossed with finan- 
cial and material affairs, the less and less profound 
would be his understanding of life, and I felt that the 
fundamental, simple things of life which are all im- 
portant and which inspired the writer of the Psalms and 
kindred literature of sacred lore, could never inspire 
men who were becoming more and more typical of 
modern commercialized civilization. I felt that sim- 
plicity is the keynote of a proper understanding of life 
and that modern civilization tended farther and farther 
away from simple things and from pleasure in them and 
understanding of them. I felt that the vapid chatter and 
nonsensical talk of the typical business and professional 
men would lead the world far from the ideals laid 
down by the writers of sacred lore and I have lived to 
see that my fears have come true. I have lived to see 
the greatest civilization ever known in the history of the 
world and the greatest prosperity and material abun- 
dance that was ever showered upon any nation, and with 
it I have seen a falling away from the ideals that in- 
spired not only the men who lived on the Judean hills, 
but from those ideals which inspired the founders of our 
own government. I have seen spiritual things relegated 

93 



entirely to the background, and I have seen a vast com- 
plicated superficial system overwhelming our entire 
country and filling our people with the thinnest and 
weakest and most superficial conception of life. I have 
seen religion become practically meaningless and I have 
seen life changed from a simple, vigorous, wholesome 
existence upon the soil to an artificial and scheming exist- 
ence in hotels, apartment buildings, skyscrapers and tene- 
ment houses. I have seen men and women and children 
living like beasts in a cage, and I have seen in the richest 
nation in the world, poverty stalk through the streets 
of the cities and stare weak and helpless men and women 
and children in the face, and have seen death following 
its footsteps and have seen the gaunt and haggard 
denizens of these unnatural retreats gaze in fear and awe 
upon the solemn spectre. All these things have I seen 
and dreaded. These things which I have said in regard 
to the conditions that have prevailed in nature and in 
civilization I have said of the world as it has been and 
as we now find it, but I do not believe that it will always 
be so, but it will be unless mankind learns to get hold. 
I remember of thinking that there on the plains I had 
gotten hold. I remember of thinking that in the com- 
pany of the prairie dogs and the solemn little owls and 
hideous rattlesnakes and the occasional lizards, that I 
found health and strength and the substance and nature 
of life. For as I have said, as I looked over the weird 
mysterious plains over which the wild things crept and 
ran and crawled, and over which the light and heat 
played in phantom shapes, I seemed to look into the 
weird and wonderful mystery of life itself. I seemed to 
get a grip on life and seemed to get hold of it in a way 

94 



that I had never done before. It may seem strange that 
it was so, but the fact, nevertheless remains. Just how 
I got hold or just what it was in the landscape that un- 
folded and explained the mystery of life, it would be 
hard to tell, but something there was that nevertheless 
unfolded and that nevertheless to a certain extent ex- 
plained it. 

Job cried out in his sufferings : "Oh , that I knew 
where I might find him! that I might come even to his 
seat! * * * Behold I go forward but he is not there, and 
backward but I cannot perceive him: On the left hand 
where he doth work but I cannot behold him: He 
hideth himself on the right hand that I cannot see him; 
But he knoweth the way that I take: when he hath tried 
me I shall come forth as gold." 

And so it is that we all try to find Him and try to see 
Him and apparently without success. But in the 
mysterious alluring light waves that played over the 
sand dunes of the great West, it seemed to me that I 
could look into the secrets and behind and beyond all 
tangible things in a way that I had never done before, 
and even as the vultures swung high in the heavens and 
as the prairie dogs and the little owls scuttled to and fro 
it seemed to me that I could see it all and that it meant 
that God is spirit and that those who worship Him must 
worship Him in spirit and in truth. Having seen as I be- 
lieved that I saw, the nature of the Universe as revealed 
to me by the advancing and receding light waves that 
came and went over the sandhills, is it any wonder that 
I loved the plains? Is it any wonder that I loved the 
West? For not only was there the conviction of the 
truth of my thought, but there was along with it the great 

95 



blessing of health and strength. I rode far and wide 
over the wild landscape where "herds of buffalo made a 
crawling spread of the square miles far and near" and I 
rode "where sundown shadows lengthened over the 
limitless prairie." I rode where life to me was every- 
where abundant and vitalizing and rejuvenating every- 
thing about me. 



CHAPTER IX. 

^^HE GAME on the prairie and plains as we pro- 
^^ ceeded westward of course thronged in seemingly 
never ending multitudes all over the wide land- 
scape. It is proverbial of course, that the buffalo were 
there in unnumbered thousands, but it is perhaps not so 
generally known that the antelope were also there in 
almost equal numbers. Some who were careful obser- 
vers have even said that there were more antelope on 
the plains than there were buffalo. They did not, how- 
ever, congregate in such immense herds as did the 
buffalo and were not therefore, spoken of in such terms 
as they are. The antelope wandered over the plains in 
small bands but the bands were much more numerous 
and closer together than were those of the wild cattle 
of the plains. 

I often think in these latter days of the tonic of the 
prairie. No medicine ever concocted by chemist or 
physician could equal it, and no treatment ever resorted 
to by medical men ever approached in efficacy the fine 
influence upon the physical make-up of experiences like 
these. I have often thought that if tired business men 
and overworked factory hands could have a vacation of 
this kind amid such surroundings and in lands teeming 
with game, that medical men would soon go out of busi- 
ness. I have often thought of the independence of spirit 
that was mine as I rode my tough and hardy steed over 

97 



those boundless plains and prairies. I have often 
thought of the railway magnates, the mine owners and 
captains of industry that since that time have ridden 
across those same plains in parlor cars and Pullman 
sleepers. I have often thought of their wealth and their 
commanding positions in the world, but I have felt that 
indeed they have been poor in spirit as compared with 
what I was in the heyday of my career when I rode with 
high horn and cantle and with rawhide bridle my speedy 
and vigorous steed over the sandy plains and among 
the sage brush of the prairie. I have often thought of 
how I would not have traded my position then for the 
position of any of these men whom I have indicated. I 
have often thought with what scorn and contempt I 
would have regarded any such proposition. I would 
not have exchanged my independence for all their 
wealth and all their power. 

At night during our trip across this particular part of 
the prairie, I frequently sat by the dying embers of the 
campfire near Miss Butler's wagon. I remember par- 
ticularly one night as we sat there we noticed a weird 
light upon the eastern sky. In those days even in the 
springtime, terrific fires frequently roared over the 
prairies through the dry matted grass that had accumu- 
lated during the previous season, and that had become 
as dry as tinder during the late summer and fall of the 
year before. These prairie fires were frequent sights 
for the wayfarer on the prairie and were regarded as 
things more or less commonplace, but things to be 
avoided should they chance to come in the wayfarer's 
way. We watched the great livid glow on the eastern 
sky, and I was beginning to note the direction of the 

98 



wind to see where the fire might lead, when the round 
disk of the moon slowly rose over the eastern horizon. 
We laughed together at our mistake and started to con- 
tinue our conversation when suddenly there broke forth 
upon the silences a discordant medley of yelps and howls 
like the wailing of lost and wretched souls. My com- 
panion instinctively sat closer to me and grasped my 
arm. I smiled as I told her that the wolves were tuning 
up again for their nightly concert. She had heard them 
every night for several nights, but nevertheless with each 
recurrence, in more or less alarm. Occasionally there 
was added to the yelps and howls the long drawn bay of 
the large timber wolves which occasionally came into 
that region. 

We started again to continue our conversation when 
a violent shudder seemed to run through my com- 
panion's frame and she again grasped my arm in ap- 
parent great alarm. With an expression on her face of 
utter and abject terror she convulsively pointed toward 
the campfire. I looked up in time to see an immense 
savage stalk silently out of the darkness and take his 
seat by the side of the dying fire. He was a fine speci- 
men physically, and sat half in shadow and half in the 
firelight, a figure that seemed to have been cast in 
bronze. He was a splendid type and as I looked in 
astonishment and in a certain alarm upon the savage 
features, it suddenly dawned upon me that our visitor 
was none other than my friend the Pawnee Chief. He 
had kept his word as to his agreement to join our 
caravan a short distance eastward of the Pawnee villages 
along the Platte, and this had been his method of joining 
us. I arose instantly and stepped toward the Chief and 

99 



extended my hand. Miss Butler cowered on the ground 
and looked on in utter amazement. I then told her this 
was one of the best friends that I had in the world, and 
that he would continue the journey with us on the fol- 
lowing day. After conversing with the Chief for some 
time, I again sought the side of Miss Butler and con- 
tinued my conversation with her. Our surroundings 
naturally led to conversation in regard to the dangers 
of the trail and the probable outcome of our journey. 
Miss Butler informed me that she had formerly lived 
in the East, and that her family had been in fairly pros- 
perous circumstances there, but that her father like many 
others at that time, had become obsessed with the idea 
of moving westward and had come with his family to 
the Mississippi Valley, and from there had set out west- 
ward over the Oregon Trail. She expressed consider- 
able regret at the venture, saying that it could not but 
result in harm, and that she dreaded the interminable 
journey from the point where we found ourselves to the 
far distant land of Oregon. She feared the wild beasts 
and the still wilder men that beset the trail. I laughed 
at her fears and began to speak of my love of the prairie 
and the wild denizens that thronged over it. My con- 
panion was greatly surprised and even astonished at my 
apparent sincerity. She urged me if I could, to state why 
I so loved such things, and having grown more or less 
into her confidence, I proceeded to tell her of my former 
miserable condition in the East, and of my journey 
westward, and of the great transformation that had come 
over me since arriving in the Mississippi Valley, and 
since proceeding westward from there. I told her of the 
transformation much as I had told it to Joe Burgess, and 

100 



much as I have related it to you. She was greatly in- 
terested, but aside from my portrayal of my experi- 
ences in the East, I saw that she attached little conse- 
quence to my claims as to the transformation that the 
West had wrought upon me. As to my getting hold of 
life, and as to the change that it had made, she simply 
listened in mild tolerance. 

Then she said: "I wish I could work such miracles 
by merely changing my mind." 

"You could," I returned, "if you should change it as 
I did mine." 

Miss Butler looked at me enquiringly as I placed her 
white buffalo robe about her shoulders and bade her 
good night. 

I did not discuss the subject further but I had abun- 
dant opportunity to illustrate to her the truth of my 
statement later on. 

I returned to the place where my uncle and the chief 
were sleeping. As I stepped near them the chief sat up 
quickly and I felt his black, piercing eyes upon me. I 
spread my buffalo robe and blanket by his side and as I 
hesitated momentarily before rolling up in them my eyes 
met his. I felt the penetrating, enquiring glance and 
then as the chief lay down again I knew its meaning. 
The glance said, "What has become of the 'dark hair' 
and have you forgotten her?" 

The 'dark hair' was what he called Julia King. En- 
grossed with the subject of my conversation with Miss 
Butler, I was wrapped in my blanket and robe before it oc- 
curred to me to say anything to the chief about his sud- 
den appearance in our camp. Not caring to disturb him 
however, I said nothing until morning. 

101 



I slept soundly until sunrise. 

When I awoke the chief and my uncle were just begin- 
ning to eat breakfast. The consternation among the 
emigrants at seeing an Indian in camp was at once ap- 
parent. Small groups of men and women stood here and 
there discussing some subject in low tones and now and 
then casting suspicious glances in our direction. We 
were evidently under strong suspicion, and it appeared 
to me that we might be asked to leave the caravan. The 
request would by no means have been unwelcome as it 
was extremely irksome traveling with the slow moving 
wagon train. At that particular part of the journey we 
would have been glad enough to have parted company 
with the emigrants entirely, though when we should be 
far enough along the trail to be out of the Pawnee 
country we would not be unwilling to be with them. 

The chief informed us that about mid-afternoon of 
that day we would reach a point on the river directly op- 
posite the Pawnee village. It was situated on the south 
side of the river and was the home or rendezvous of 
thousands of the Pawnee tribe. The chief was desirous 
of stopping there. It was not his intention to go on west 
with us, though he desired my uncle and me to stop at 
the village for a day and pay his tribe a visit. This we 
decided to do. 

In the middle of the afternoon as the chief had pre- 
dicted and after we had traveled some twenty miles we 
saw the village across the river. We dropped out of the 
procession and made preparations for crossing the 
stream. The emigrants watched us narrowly. I could 
not refrain from laughing at the narrow looks of hard 
suspicion that were sent after us. I sat in the saddle on 

102 



little Texas on the river bank and watched the white 
topped wagons slowly moving westward. The men, and 
the women also, looked at us without demonstration of 
any kind. I was just lifting the bridle rein preparatory 
to urging Texas into the stream when a white handker- 
chief fluttered out from one of the wagons well toward 
the front of the procession. I waved my hat in recogni- 
tion of the courtesy and then turned my horse into the 
stream. 

The night after my arrival in the Indian camp I slept 
in an Indian lodge. When morning came I sat up and 
looked out of the wigwam upon the strange scene about 
me. Certainly I could not complain of any lack of 
savagery or wildness. My antipathy to civilization was 
here fully satisfied. I was looking on scenes little dif- 
ferent from those this region had known during many 
long ages before America was discovered. I was so- 
journing with a great and powerful tribe. Like the Six 
Nations of the East this tribe had long waged relentless 
war on all surrounding tribes, and like those redoubt- 
able warriors had long been a scourge to their enemies. 
Through many generations they maintained their su- 
periority and held unchecked sway over the central 
prairies west of the Missouri river. Many years of 
almost continuous war had, however, reduced the num- 
ber of this formidable nation. Some twenty years be- 
fore my visit the smallpox had also sadly decimated 
their ranks and the United States government had for 
some time been forcing them to convey away the larger 
portion of their lands. But they still retained their 
characteristics of haughty lords of the land they roamed 
over and still lived on Nature's bounty as their fathers 

103 



had done before them. The buffalo was the mainstay of 
their existence. The shaggy beast of the prairie fur- 
nished them with food, clothing and shelter. At certain 
seasons of the year these Indians would slaughter the 
buffalo in almost unbelievable numbers. At their 
annual "surrounds" they would surround a herd of the 
great beasts and with every avenue of escape cut off by 
hundreds of savages mounted on perfectly trained and 
agile ponies the buffalo were slaughtered by the hun- 
dreds. As many as 1200 buffalo have been known to 
have been killed in a single "surround" by these Indians. 
But though the red men slaughtered the buffalo in such 
large numbers in a single hunt their main support and 
food supply was never in the slightest danger of exter- 
mination so long as the Indian maintained his suprem- 
acy. It remained for the white man with his engines 
of destruction to sweep Indians and buffalo alike to the 
brink of extermination. 

The morning sun was illuminating the primeval 
prairie with the light of another day. The Indian en- 
campment was astir with life. I was just beginning to 
saunter toward the lodge where the chief and my uncle 
had spent the night when an Indian rode a piebald pony 
into camp and with a single magic word threw the camp 
into commotion. I hastened on to the lodge to ascertain 
the meaning of the hubbub. When I arrived at the tepee 
my uncle informed me that a herd of buffalo had been 
sighted a mile or more to the southward. The braves 
were catching and mounting their ponies and in a short 
time a great number of them with bow and arrow and 
lance and spear and guns were galloping off southward 
on their tough little steeds. It was a time of excitement 

104 



and exuberance and thrilled by the inspiration of the 
moment I hurriedly saddled Texas and was off after the 
Indians. Scurrying southward over the prairie, this 
concourse of savages made a picture I shall not soon for- 
get. Approaching a rather high ridge the Indians 
slackened their pace and proceeded cautiously to the 
elevation of land and looked over. I arrived in time to 
see the objects of their gaze. A herd of some fifty 
buffalo were grazing quietly in a slight depression or 
swale about two hundred yards away. The Indians at 
once decided to give chase. They accordingly poured 
over the ridge and swept down upon the astonished 
beasts like a whirlwind. The old bulls raised their 
enormous heads, gazed momentarily through the matted 
hair on their foreheads and turned and fled. Each 
Indian with the skill of instinct and long practice when 
he had overtaken the lumbering beasts singled out some 
particular animal which he had marked in his mind for 
slaughter and pursued it swiftly and surely until within 
easy range from which the spear or arrow could be 
driven home. 

These plains Indians have great skill with the bow 
and arrow, and let drive the shaft from the bow with 
terrific force. I was astonished after the chase to find a 
buffalo bull which had been shot through with an arrow. 
The shaft had apparently encountered no bones and had 
►assed entirely through the body of the bull. The force 
with which the arrow had been launched can well be 
imagined. 

I watched the Indians from the ridge until the chase 
was over. I then saw them dismount and surround one 
of the carcasses lying prone on the prairie and attack it 

105 



eagerly and skillfully with their knives. The hide was 
removed in the twinkling of an eye and almost before I 
realized what had happened the Indians were feasting 
with blood-thirsty relish upon the raw liver and heart 
and other parts of the buffalo, which they regard as great 
delicacies. Their appearance can well be imagined as 
with blood smeared countenances they stood around the 
great carcass as they enjoyed apparently to the utmost 
their primeval banquet. 

After watching the savages for some time I rode back 
to camp where I gave myself up to the rather Indian- 
like enjoyment of stretching full length upon a buffalo 
robe which lay on the ground in the warm sunlight. 

There are those who cannot endure solitude. There 
are those to whom the lonely regions of uncivilized lands 
are things to be avoided forever, if possible. There are 
those to whom wild primitive Nature is unsupportable, 
and there are those who cannot endure to be alone. I 
thought of these people and these types of humanity as 
I lay on the great buffalo robe on the prairie after the 
buffalo hunt and I thought of them only with scorn. The 
Indians were returning to camp and were again turning 
their ponies out to graze. The half wild dogs sniffed 
around the camp and particularly around me as an ob- 
ject of great curiosit}^. Today, again, I think of the 
thoughts that went through my mind so many years ago 
there on the western plains. I was happy in solitude 
and I was happy to be free and alone. And I recall 
also of how it suddenly came to me there that I was ex- 
treme and that it Was not right to shun civilization en- 
tirely and that it was not right to be forever alone. I re- 
member of arriving at the conclusion then and there 

106 



that there is a certain balance between Nature and civi- 
lization that should be maintained in every person's 
life and I have never since changed my mind in regard 
to that conclusion. Neither civilization nor Nature should 
be supreme but each should be accorded its rightful 
share in the life of every normal human being. 



107 



m 



CHAPTER X. 

Y UNCLE and I left the Pawnee encampment and 
set out westward to overtake the wagon train. In 
a couple of days we were once more with the slow 
moving wagons. Buffalo were becoming more numerous 
as we proceeded westward. Antelope also were more 
frequently seen. Also prairie dogs and rattlesnakes and 
little prairie owls were more and more in evidence. The 
land became more and more desolate, more and more 
mysterious in its primeval charm. The wide shallow 
river lay in the afternoon sun like the streams of the 
Orient. An Indian and sometimes two or three passed 
by us with their stiff, vermilion-soaked hair standing in 
the form of a ridge on their otherwise well shaven heads. 
They passed by us with expressionless faces, staring at 
us with brutish countenances or appearing not to see us 
at all. 

The buffalo were seen on the surrounding ridges and 
urging my uncle to accompany me I finally gained his 
consent and we set off in pursuit of a herd some distance 
to the north of us. The chief had remained with his 
people at the Pawnee village and we were therefore de- 
prived of his assistance and companionship. 

Frank Perkins was a skilled buffalo hunter, as I was 
soon to learn. Approaching by stealth as near as pos- 
sible we suddenly began the chase. In an astonishing 
short space of time my uncle had one of the herd 



stretched dead on the prairie. Away he went riding 
swiftly here and there and dashing in and out. His horse 
appeared to be an old hand at the business and after 
riding swiftly in and out among the herd no less than six 
of the beasts succumbed to the rifle and pistols of this 
one solitary hunter. 

However I was not a witness to any but the first shot. 
I went flying away after a part of the herd that fled to- 
ward a line of hills to my left. Owing to the difficulty in 
getting Texas to approach closely to any of the buffalo 
I was compelled to follow them far before getting a fair 
opportunity for a shot. When I did shoot I failed to 
bring down the game. The mighty beast which I had 
attacked went plunging and bucking off over the hills 
with blood-shot eye and flecks of foam about his mouth 
and nostrils. As I topped one of the larger hills I could 
see the buffalo far and wide. In the little valleys be- 
tween the hills and ridges and on the hillsides and in the 
paths and defiles in and around the sandy hilltops I 
could see many hundreds and probably thousands of 
buffalo. Most of them had been startled by our attack 
and were galloping northward. Some were running fast 
and hard while others farther removed from the point 
of attack were galloping clumsily along in a leisurely 
manner. I even came upon others in the depressions 
around the hilltops which were lying dozing in the sun- 
light and apparently very near asleep. Such surprises 
always resulted in a tremendous and ungainly effort to 
get upon their feet upon the part of the shaggy beasts. 
On one occasion I was confronted by a bull which had 
thus unceremoniously scrambled to a standing position 
and instead of taking to flight with his tail in the air as 

109 



the others had done he whirled and faced me with 
shaggy head lowered and with eyes looking sternly 
through his tangled mane. Texas as usual tried to run 
but I had him under control and cuffing him as hard as 
I could about the ears, I soon instilled into his brain that 
he was to hold his position and even approach nearer to 
the object of his fright if I deemed it necessary. Luckily 
I brought him to a position that enabled me to get a shot 
and I put a bullet low down behind the bull's shoulder 
and he sank to the prairie almost without a quiver. As 
soon as I was sure that he was dead I looked about me 
at the ancient sand hills and the surrounding prairie. It 
seemed that the silent, mysterious land might have once 
been the home of unknown civilizations and that tribes 
and races of men might here have lived and flourished 
and decayed and that the silence here like that of Egypt 
and Palestine shrouded and concealed a cycle of the life 
of some race or tribe which had lived and died in its ap- 
pointed time. Yet no Sphinx looked silently out over 
the sands and no pyramids rose in the clear, thin air to 
mark the prowess and industry of those who had been 
gathered to their tombs. Only the wild, shaggy cattle of 
the western plains could be seen scurrying away north- 
ward far and wide among the hills. 

I took out the tongue of the buffalo and started to re- 
turn to the spot where we had first given chase to the 
herd. At first I thought I was lost but I soon found my 
way, though my success was due to Texas rather than 
to myself. 

Wolves and coyotes were much in evidence on my re- 
turn journey. Generally I never passed one of them by 
without a shot, but here they were so numerous that 

no 



shooting was out of the question and besides I felt much 
anxiety to be back with the wagon train again. I 
glanced at the surrounding ridges as I rode, apprehen- 
sive that from every hilltop and ridge a ruffian band 
might dash down upon me. Here among the desolate 
sand hills I felt the barbarousness of the west as I had 
never felt it before. Prairie dogs and rattlesnakes, 
coyotes and wolves, only seemed to add to the desolate, 
grim loneliness of the scene. I realized as never before 
how utterly helpless I would be alone among the hills 
with a marauding band of Pawnees, Cheyennes or 
Sioux upon my trail. I spurred little Texas to his best 
speed and was greatly relieved when I came in sight of 
my uncle just returning to the spot where we had first 
made the attack upon the buffaloes. 

We soon caught up with the wagon train and after 
proceeding for an hour or more along the trail we 
pitched camp. After the evening meal and as darkness 
settled down we saw the ruddy glow of a prairie fire far 
back along the trail. The Indians had probably started 
it, my uncle said, to conceal their tracks and evidence of 
their activity in certain directions from their enemies. 
The wolves howled on the neighboring hills and the low 
voices of the emigrants seemed subdued and fearful of 
some impending calamity. At any moment the war- 
whoop might sound out of the darkness and the savages 
would be upon us. Our horses were hobbled very close 
to the wagons which were formed in a circle against 
attack. 

I was sitting by the remains of a little fire where 
coffee had been boiled and meat for supper had been 
prepared. One of the big prairie schooners was just be- 
lli 



hind me and I was reclining against one of the wagon 
wheels. As I sat there alone Miss Butler came and sat 
down beside me. 

"I want to ask a favor of you," she began. 

"What is it?" I asked. 

"I want to kill a buffalo," she said, "and I want you 
to help me." 

I was greatly surprised. Miss Butler was certainly 
adapting herself to her surroundings. 

"All right," I replied, "the next herd we see I will try 
and help you to get a shot." 

The very next day we sighted a large herd far off to 
our left. I had many misgivings but as Miss Butler in- 
sisted I helped her on the horse which had been loaned 
to her and we set out toward the herd. Evidently she 
had ridden before for she sat on her mount very well and 
rode as one accustomed to riding. She rode my uncle's 
horse and I supposed that the horse's experience and 
knowledge of buffalo hunting would enable his rider to 
bring down one of the beasts, provided she could keep 
her seat and shoot straight. 

When we reached a point near enough the herd we 
put spurs to our horses and began the chase. As the 
lady approached one of the shaggy beasts and was pre- 
paring to shoot I refrained from entering into the chase 
but galloped behind her to see what the outcome of the 
attack might be. Drawing close along side she leveled 
her revolver and fired. The buffalo whirled in the flash 
of an eye and with lowered head charged his pursuers. 
The horse whirled with equal swiftness to avoid the 
charge and Miss Butler, who had been leaning far out of 
the saddle toward the object of her shot, was left almost 

112 



instantly upon the ground as her horse jumped from un- 
der her. My rifle spoke almost in the same instant and 
the buffalo fell headlong, tearing up the earth as he slid 
and scrambled and rolled. He was soon on his feet 
again but apparently without much desire to carry out 
his original intentions. Meanwhile Miss Butler beat a 
hasty retreat while I dispatched the beast with my re- 
volver. 

On looking up I was surprised to see the riderless 
horse disappearing over one of the ridges a quarter of a 
mile away. I at once spurred after him. Seeing him 
rounding one of the swells or hills to my left I rode in a 
southeasterly direction to head him off, but to my sur- 
prise on coming to the point where the animal should 
have been seen coming toward me I saw nothing at all. 
I then rode westward until I discovered his tracks and 
set out at a rapid canter upon his trail. He had turned 
in another direction after getting behind the hill and I 
was following hard on his tracks with eyes upon the trail 
when I came upon some hard ground where the tracks 
were extremely difficult to see from my position on my 
horse. I slowed down and dismounted and carefully ex- 
amined the ground on foot. For some distance I led my 
horse by the bridle rein and then as the trail became 
more and more indistinct and as at times I lost it alto- 
gether, I left Texas standing by himself and proceeded to 
search for the tracks without being bothered by my horse. 
Engrossed in the search I kept getting farther and farther 
away from my steed. When some fifty yards from him 
I suddenly heard him snort and looking up saw him 
plunge to one side as a horse does when frightened by a 
rattlesnake. After the first frightened jump he trotted 

113 



off with dangling rein, stepping and tripping upon it. In 
a moment he had broken the rein and went off at a faster 
gait. I called and whistled but he paid no attention to 
me. 

Quite surprised, I watched him until he had gone a 
quarter of a mile or more. He then stopped and began 
grazing on the sparse grass that he found about him. I 
returned to the spot where I had left him when I dis- 
mounted and found the snake which I had rightly 
guessed was the cause of the trouble. I promptly killed 
it and then set out after my wayward steed. I began to 
feel considerable anxiety as I started after him, for now 
instead of one horse, it was two that had gotten away 
from us and both Miss Butler and myself were alone on 
the prairie, with the prospect of having to overtake the 
wagon train on foot. Indians were never far away in 
that locality and many fears assailed me. 

I was walking with all speed toward my horse and 
was nearly half way to him when two mounted Pawnees 
swept swiftly out of a depression behind one of the hills 
and rode toward little Texas like a couple of imps, and 
yelling like mad. The result was that my favorite little 
animal threw up his head with a snort, lifted his tail 
over his back and raced over the nearest swell of the 
prairie like a quarterhorse. 

I was completely dismayed, though I did not lose my 
presence of mind to such an extent as to prevent my 
sending a shot after the two rascals that stampeded my 
horse. My shot did not take effect, however, and for 
some time I stood and watched the red men as they were 
disappearing over the hill on their ponies. 

To say that I was disgusted and disappointed is 

114 



putting it mildly. I knew I would never see my horse 
again and the loss was one that I felt most keenly. 

I then addressed myself to the task of getting back to 
Miss Butler. It was getting late in the afternoon and I 
walked with all my speed back over the ground over 
which I had come in pursuit of her horse. I gave up 
the idea of trying to find the horse and hoped only to 
find her safe and sound. 

In due time I reached the spot where I had left her 
but she was nowhere to be seen. My heart sank. For 
more than an hour I tried to follow the trail which she 
had left but without success. I had little ability as a 
tracker and the ground was in such condition as to 
make the task a difficult one. I worked and worked, but 
without success. I examined the ground with the 
greatest anxiety for blood or for signs of a struggle, but 
found neither. Then, just at sundown and when I was 
in despair of knowing what to do I saw her a mile or 
more away, walking swiftly along the top of one of the 
swells of the prairie. After a few minutes I had over- 
taken her and she explained that she had lain down in a 
hollow of sand after I had left her and while there had 
seen two Indians off to the eastward, riding in a southerly 
direction on their ponies. 

Undoubtedly they were the same scoundrels who had 
driven off my horse. 

When they had passed, she set out to overtake the 
wagon train, but had been unable to come in sight of it 
and had walked unceasingly, but without avail. I felt 
sure that she had lost all sense of direction and had been 
walking in a circle. 

Then she and I set out together to find and over- 

115 



take the wagon train. We walked and walked. The 
stars began to come out and the coyotes and wolves be- 
gan howling on the hills. When we had walked an 
hour or more we sat down to rest. Miss Butler was well 
nigh exhausted, though she would not admit it, and I 
myself, was very tired, and both of us were ravenously 
hungry. I located the north star and discovered that I 
had not been following the exact direction which I had 
intended. Evidently we were yet a long way from the 
wagon train. We remained at this spot longer than I 
had intended and when we set out again the sky in the 
west became overcast and thunder began to roll omin- 
ously along the horizon. It was very evident that there 
would be a storm. We looked in vain for something to 
protect us from the elements but nothing but rolling 
prairie without a tree or shelter of any kind was to be 
seen. The lightning flashed vividly and it was not long 
until the thunder crashed with an ear-splitting din. 
Soon a steady rumbling noise could be heard and I took 
off my coat and gave it to my companion to protect her 
from the rain. But the rain not coming as soon as I had 
expected I looked westward over the prairie when the 
lightning flashed, expecting to see the glare of light 
glistening on a heavy downpour, but as I looked some- 
thing caught my eye that sent the blood back to my heart. 

"Miss Butler," I said, "it isn't rain that is coming, it is 
buffaloes." 

She caught my arm. The earth seemed to tremble 
beneath our feet. The lightning flashed again and re- 
vealed as far as the eye could see a long line of shaggy 
heads and tossing horns. Far back into the darkness 
an undulating mass of black showed the unthinkable 

116 



numbers of the great beasts that were bearing down upon 
us. Another flash showed the tremendous flood of 
frenzied buffaloes was near and coming toward us like 
the wind. A fitful glare here and there lit up a vast ex- 
panse and everywhere in the darkness and far back to- 
ward the horizon we saw buffaloes and only buffaloes. 

My companion clung to my arm and trembled like a 
leaf. Her face was ghastly pale. She threw her arms 
about my neck and then suddenly controlling herself 
stood like a statue resolutely facing apparent certain 
death. 

"Yell, Miss Butler," said I, "yell with all your might. 
Take off your coat and wave it above your head and yell 
as you never yelled before." 

She did as she was told and waved the coat with the 
white sleeves out and raised her voice which was soon 
drowned in the roar of thunder and the terrible rumble 
of the beating upon the earth of a million hoofs. Drop- 
ping upon one knee I brought my rifle to position and at 
the next flash of lightning fired into the herd. Then 
taking my revolvers I fired again and again. Miss Butler 
was now crouching at my side. The great wave rolled 
up and upon us with an apparent final terrible burst of 
speed and with desperation I pointed the revolvers at the 
face of the tremendous flood and fired as the tangled 
manes and gleaming eyes were almost within arm's 
length from where we crouched on the resounding 
ground. We gave ourselves up for lost though Miss 
Butler feebly waved the coat and I tried to yell, though 
I heard not a sound from my own lips. The ocean of 
buffaloes had engulfed us. We were in the midst of 
burly forms. Huge heads and heaving sides were con- 

117 



stantly at our sides. The earth trembled and a stifling 
dust rising from the ground choked us and filled our eyes, 
yet as the lightning flashed we could see far over the 
heaving sea of backs in all directions. The thunder 
added its uproar to the pandemonium that surrounded 
us and the lightning filled us with awe as we looked 
upon the fearful, surging horde of the stampeded lords 
of the prairie. Gradually, however, the ranks of the 
beasts that surrounded us became a little thinner and as 
I watched in a kind of stupor I saw the thousands give 
way to hundreds and the hundreds to dozens until finally 
the herd had passed. I heard them rumbling on to the 
eastward and I felt as if a million tons had been lifted 
from my shoulders. In a dazed way I realized that the 
danger had passed. Miss Butler lay still upon the 
ground at my side. Soon I realized that I must act. The 
rain now began to fall and I turned her over so that her 
pallid features were turned toward the heavens. As 
the raindrops fell upon her face she stirred slightly and 
soon sat up and looked about her. It was some time be- 
fore she realized what had happened and when she did 
she got upon her feet and peered into the darkness and 
asked if the stampede was over. 

As she looked again in the direction from which the 
buffaloes had come my eyes followed her gaze and I 
started suddenly as I saw a huge carcass lying prone upon 
the ground not ten feet ahead of us. It was a dead 
buffalo which I had killed when I fired into the herd. A 
few yards farther on was another huge bulk lying upon 
the prairie. As I looked at it while the lightning flashed 
I saw it rise unsteadily to its feet and limp away from 
us. The two fallen beasts had saved our lives. They 

118 



had divided the herd just enough to prevent our being 
run down and quickly trampled to death. 

As soon as I could regain my composure, even in a 
slight degree, I approached the body lying nearest us 
and shot into it again and again to make sure that it was 
dead. When I had satisfied myself on this point I made 
Miss Butler lie down close to and partially under the 
body of the big beast to protect her from the driving rain 
which was now blowing across the prairie at a terrific 
rate. I then crouched down by the shaggy neck and 
head to get what protection I could from the storm. 

How long we remained in this position I do not know. 
When I woke from a fitful slumber the moon was shin- 
ing and the rain had apparently long since ceased to fall. 
I was chilled to the bone and my teeth chattered. I was 
just considering the misery of our position when the 
sound of hoofs again caught my ear. Looking to the 
westward I distinctly saw six horsemen galloping toward 
us. I threw my rifle over the carcass of the buffalo and 
prepared to defend myself to the last. 

The glint of the moonlight on the rifle barrel evi- 
dently caught the attention of the horsemen for they in- 
stantly reined in their steeds and stood in a little group 
as though having a conference together. For some time 
they remained motionless and, so far as I could tell, 
silent. Then the most welcome sound I ever heard in 
my life came to my ears. My name was called in a 
voice loud and clear and that voice was the voice of my 
uncle Frank Perkins. He and five of the emigrants from 
the wagon train were soon at our sides. They had set 
out to find us when my uncle's horse returned to the 
train riderless. After having eluded me when I pur- 

119 



sued it, the perverse beast had gone back to the wagon 
train. My uncle at once set out with five other men 
whom he had persuaded to go with him to search for us. 
They had seen the herd of buffaloes and one of their num- 
ber had in fact stampeded it by firing into the herd. The 
storm added to the excitement of the beasts and caused 
fhem to stampede as they had done. 

My uncle had brought an additional horse and Miss 
Butler was soon in the saddle. I mounted my uncle's 
steed and after a couple of hours we were back on the 
trail and after two more we were again with the wagon 
train. The sun was rising in the east as I crawled, 
utterly exhausted, into my blankets and robes and fell 
at once into the sleep that only the weary can know. In- 
stead of sleeping on the ground as usual I was per- 
mitted to make my bed in one of the big wagons and I 
slept soundly as it creaked and bumped over the ground. 
The next day I felt none the worse for my experiences 
and continued to ride with the wagon train as before. I 
bargained with one of the emigrants for another horse 
and though the loss of Texas was a loss for which I felt 
that I could never be compensated, I was nevertheless 
compelled to make the most of the situation. 

Day after day we toiled along and finally reached 
Fort Laramie. 

We remained there for several days. The emigrants 
purchased what supplies they could at the store, had 
their horses and some of their oxen shod and rested from 
their long journey up the Platte. 

In due time we set out westward again. The Medi- 
cine Bow Range was now immediately ahead of us. Its 
passage was attended with difficulty and hardships but 

120 



also with great delight on my part. Frequently as the 
wagon train wound its slow and tortuous course among 
the hills I would climb up a mountain side and view the 
scenery about me. The clear, pure morning air was an 
inspiration most refreshing after the hot, sandy plains of 
the upper Platte. Tracks of the mountain sheep were in 
the dust of the mountain trails and deer and elk tracks 
were as numerous as those of domestic animals upon a 
farm. I frequently saw elk and deer and occasionally 
was lucky enough to bring one down. 

I was expressing my delight one morning to my uncle, 
telling him of the fine pleasure I was having in the grand 
mountains and hills when he informed me that upon his 
return from the California gold fields he had traversed 
that very region. After leaving the region of Puget 
Sound he had crossed the mountains as far as possible 
by the Oregon trail. He had come, he said, into the 
region of the mountains which we were traversing when 
winter was so far advanced as to make the thought of 
proceeding farther out of the question. He and his two 
companions had therefore built a log house some dis- 
tance back from the trail and had spent the winter there 
in the mountain solitudes. The mountains, he said, were 
then white with snow and the dark spruces and pines 
were bent toward the earth with their snowy load. A 
supply of meat had been laid in with their unerring 
rifles and the rafters of their mountain home were hung 
with the choicest parts of elk and deer. As the long 
winter nights held the mountains in their grip of iron 
and as the hooting of owls and the scream of cougars 
sounded out in the great silence the big log fire blazed in 
their fireplace and they stretched themselves on their 

121 



blankets and robes and smoked and dreamed away the 
silent hours. 

"I will show you that log house," said my uncle, "if it 
is still standing. It is not far from this very spot." 

A mile or more farther along the trail he struck off to 
the right and after another mile had been traversed in 
that direction he followed the course of a little moun- 
tain stream, that came brawling down over the rocks, 
and was soon high up among the trees on a level grassy 
opening. Back against the hill or cliff that ascended 
rather abruptly at the western edge of the little plateau 
was a log house, solidly built and looking very snug and 
cozy in its seclusion. It was a long, low building, con- 
taining as I afterward found three rooms, the building 
being divided into three equal parts. One of the rooms 
had been used as a store room for the meat and hides of 
the game they had killed and one in which the fireplace 
was situated had been used as a kitchen and living 
room and the third had been used as a bedroom. Back 
of the little building and in fact on all sides but one, the 
unbroken forest extended far and wide. To the south 
of the building, however, and not more than fifty yards 
from it a tremendous chasm yawned three hundred feet 
to a mountain stream that brawled over the rocks be- 
low. 

The cabin was situated in a delightful region. The 
mountains that surrounded us were the home of the 
mountain sheep, the elk, the bear and the cougar. From 
a position high up on the mountain side above the cabin 
I could look far out over miles and miles of mountain 
tops, shrouded in blue mists and extending away and 
mingling with the clouds. It was a region north, south, 

122 



east and west that to a certain extent was to become a 
nation's play ground. From crowded cities men and 
women would come in later years to look over those sub- 
lime mountain tops and recuperate and rest from their 
weary toil. 

But at that time I beheld the great ranges, only 
dimly comprehending what was to come to pass. I saw 
them and loved them and looked upon them with venera- 
tion, but at the time I did not stop to consider how in 
later years "American Democracy, in its myriad per- 
sonalities, in factories, workshops, stores, offices — 
through the dense streets and houses of cities, and all 
their manifold sophisticated life — must be fibered, vital- 
ized by regular contact with outdoor light and air," and 
I did not fully appreciate the fact that the time would 
come within my own lifetime when the elk and moun- 
tain sheep would have almost entirely disappeared from 
that entire locality and when men, women and girls and 
boys would throng into the mountain fastnesses and go 
cackling and screaming and chattering along the once 
quiet trails and turn all the lovely, quiet region into a 
vast park or Fourth of July celebration ground. I did 
not at that time foresee the tents and camp outfits, the 
newspapers and magazines, the hired guides, the ham- 
mocks and phonographs and the thousand other things 
that were to bring sacrilege into the majesty of the 
mountains. Had I foreseen these things "some perverse 
regrets might have tempered the ardor of my rejoicing." 



123 



CHAPTER XI. 

j^^HE CABIN of which I have spoken was a kind of 
^^/ halfway house between the Pacific Coast and the 
Missouri River, and wayfarers along the Oregon 
Trail who knew of the cabin's existence, frequently 
stopped there for rest and recuperation. While we were 
there at the cabin we met some of my Uncle's old asso- 
ciates who had been with him in California in 1849. 
These former associates of my Uncle were aware of the 
cabin's existence and we found them there when we 
arrived. The meeting between them and my Uncle was 
of course warm and cordial, and occasioned great sur- 
prise upon the part of all of them. We had been there 
but a short time when they informed my Uncle of the 
death of one of their number who had been with them 
while coming over the mountains. In fact he had died 
but the day before their arrival at the cabin, and had 
been interred by his associates beside the trail. His 
name was William Jenkins, and he went by the name of 
Wild Bill. I noticed that my Uncle was not very respon- 
sive when he heard this news, and heard the facts re- 
lated to him with considerable indifference. It ap- 
peared that he had no great admiration for Wild Bill. I 
of course did not know why this was, nor why he did 
not care to express greater sympathy than he did on ac- 
count of the demise of the departed one. He was hear- 
ing the news, as I have said, with indifference until the 

124 



narrator of the facts was about half way through with 
his recital, when my Uncle suddenly caught his breath 
and his whole demeanor changed from indifference to 
one of the keenest and most intense interest. And then 
it was as I listened, that I learned why his interest had 
suddenly revived. The man who was telling us the 
news, stated that Wild Bill had been stricken with a 
mortal illness as they were coming along the trail, and 
that the night before he died he had called one of the 
party to his side and had told him of his participation in 
an assassination or murder that had taken place years 
before in what is now the State of West Virginia. In 
short, the narrator told my Uncle that Wild Bill had been 
among the party who had killed my Uncle's fiancee 
while she was riding with him through the hills of West 
Virginia. Also our narrator informed us that Wild Bill 
imparted the information before he left his earthly 
abode, that the party who had been guilty of the killing 
had been composed of certain named persons, whose 
names he gave, and that among the party was a person 
by the name of Lee, whom I at once knew to be an elder 
brother of Harry Lee. This of course revived my Uncle's 
interest in my contest with Harry Lee, and it was ap- 
parent that I would benefit by his assistance from that 
time forward, in the contest. 

Of course my Uncle was for some time after hearing 
this news, considerably depressed in spirit, and con- 
siderably overwrought in mind, but after he had had 
time to calm himself, I asked him who this Wild Bill 
Jenkins might be and what he knew about him. Among 
other things concerning Wild Bill my uncle told me the 
following story. 

125 



"When gold was discovered in California," he began, 
"I was living in Charleston, in what is now West Vir- 
ginia. I had just gone through the greatest sorrow of 
my life and when it became known that gold had been 
discovered in the far West I at once set out across the 
plains to seek my fortune and to forget, if possible, the 
thing w r hich had thrown such a shadow over my life. 

"After the usual hardships of the journey to the 
Pacific Coast I arrived there and in due time became a 
full fledged California Forty-niner. I staked out a claim 
near the Sacramento river and went to work. 

"There were all kinds of characters in the camp near 
which I had taken up my claim. Two especially I will 
never forget. 

"The first was Wild Bill. He was a bushy-haired, 
evil-eyed villian, who looked like a pirate from the 
Spanish main. He also had come from West Virginia. 
He was heavy set and muscular and as full of explosive 
wrath as a keg of gun powder, and his temper was as 
easily touched off. He would fly in a rage and would 
fight like a demon at the slightest provocation. He was 
a bully from the ground up and was always imposing on 
those about him in a most intolerable way. 

"His most peculiar and outstanding characteristic 
from a physical point of view was an injured eye that 
looked as if it had been struck with something that had 
practically caused an entire loss of vision. The eye was 
intact but always apparently looking in a different direc- 
tion from that in w T hich its companion was looking. 

"Another character, equally unique, who attracted a 
good deal of attention at the mining camp was a middle- 
aged fellow whom everyone called "Karl." I never 

126 



heard his last name spoken by anyone and never knew 
what it was. He appeared to be of German descent and 
spoke with a decided German accent. He was, perhaps, 
a little under the average height, blue-eyed, and the 
possessor of whiskers which seemed to grow longer on 
the sides than in the center of his chin. These two 
wisps of beard were always blowing up and back in the 
wind and gave Karl as he was called, a very distinct and 
somewhat grotesque appearance. He was a very active 
and energetic fellow and was always bustling about 
with an air of importance. He was a very good revolver 
shot and it was said that he was not averse to demon- 
strating his prowess. He, like all the other miners car- 
ried his dust in a belt and his six-shooters on his hips. 
He was quite bold and never feared to let it be known 
how much dust he had on his person and just what he 
intended to do with it. 

Karl and Wild Bill came to be fairly good friends. 
Their peculiarities seemed to find something in common. 
Both were high-tempered and both would fight upon 
comparatively short notice and slight provocation. It 
became known among the men at the camp that Karl 
had come from the north, that he had been in the em- 
ploy of the Hudson Bay Fur Company and that for a few 
months prior to his coming south to the gold fields of 
California he had lived at Seattle. When gold was dis- 
covered in California he had left his employment and 
had hastened south to seek his fortune there. Some- 
times when Karl had been drinking a little he told a 
story of a buried treasure on an island in the big lake 
east of Seattle. Across the lake from the little settle- 
ment, he said, was an island several miles around. It 

127 



was in the southern end of the lake and was beautifully 
situated. Much time he devoted to enlarging upon the 
beauty of the scene where the treasure was situated. He 
talked of a great mountain, snow-clad and vast in height, 
that raised its tremendous summit into the sky to the 
southward. He said it was the most beautiful scene he 
had ever seen and to live on the island was a perpetual 
delight. Then, after regaling his hearers upon the 
granduer and loveliness of the scene, he would proceed 
with a great air of mystery to tell of a buried box of gold 
situated almost in the center of the south end of the 
island. It was his, he said, and he had earned it in the 
employ of the fur company. He had left it there for fear 
of being robbed in Seattle, as there was a gang of cut- 
throats there who continually watched for an oppor- 
tunity to get his gold. When he had got all the gold he 
wanted in California, he would return, he said, to the en- 
chanted island near Seattle and recover the buried 
treasure. By that time, he thought the gang which 
sought to rob him would be out of that part of the 
country and he could possess himself of his treasure 
in safety. 

"After hearing this story a good many times nobody 
at the camp attached any consequence to it. It was con- 
sidered simply as a yarn and treated as such. But no 
one ventured to contradict the teller of the tale or to 
question his veracity. 

"Wild Bill and Karl were considered friends, but 
Wild Bill and I were not. More than once words passed 
between us that brought us to the verge of trouble, but 
for a long time we never actually engaged in physical 
combat. 

128 



"One day on the street (if such it could be called) in 
front of the buildings and shacks of the mining camp or 
town, Wild Bill and I had a few words concerning a 
claim which I was working and which he had concluded 
to claim as his own. Everyone who knew anything 
about the facts, knew that Wild Bill had no rights in re- 
gard to the claim, whatever. I was getting mad and so 
was Wild Bill. Just then Karl came up and getting the 
drift of the conversation, made a few remarks to the 
effect that I was right and Wild Bill was wrong and 
that I was the owner of the claim and that Wild Bill had 
no rights in it at all. Wild Bill's anger was fast rising, 
and whirling around upon Karl he began berating him 
and telling him to tend to his own business. His words 
were profane and insulting and I saw a wicked light rise 
in Karl's blue eyes. Everyone present saw that some- 
thing was going to happen and began getting out of the 
way. Wild Bill continued his abuse and Karl stood 
looking silently and coldly at him. Soon words began 
coming from Wild Bill's tongue that no man in a min- 
ing camp who was not a coward, would allow to pass 
unavenged. Karl's hand went toward his hip and Wild 
Bill, seeing the movement, pulled his gun like a flash and 
blazed away. Almost at the same instant the gun of his 
opponent flashed forth its contents and both men fell to 
the ground. Both were hit but neither was killed and 
each with grim determination continued firing from his 
prone position on the ground. Rising on one elbow each 
poured out the contents of his gun at the other. Each 
was a good shot and each one lived up to his reputation. 
It seemed that every shot took effect. But neither 
stopped firing until the cylinders of his gun were empty. 

129 



When the six shots of each one had been fired the wit- 
nesses to the affray came to the rescue. The riddled 
men were carried to an empty building which on pre- 
vious occasions had served as a hospital. The doctor 
was called, and the men were given every attention that 
the physician could bestow. He made the astounding 
announcement after he had worked with the men for 
over an hour that every shot had in fact taken effect and 
that each man had been hit six times and that each man 
had a chance to recover. 

"Many long days Wild Bill and Karl lay on their beds 
in the improvised hospital. As time went by they 
gradually reverted to their former friendship. When 
their anger had cooled they realized that they had 
made fools of themselves and that there should have 
been no occasion for the shooting. 

"It became known that they were on good terms again 
and it also became known that they had entered into a 
rather strange agreement. They had solemnly promised 
each other that the one who died first should have a 
monument erected over his grave by the other. Each 
one had given his word that should the other die before 
he did that he would go to the grave, wherever it might 
be, and erect there a suitable monument to commem- 
orate the one who had departed. 

"Strange to say, both men recovered, at least suffi- 
ciently to allow them to get up and be about once more. 
As soon as they were able both left the camp. Wild Bill 
went to San Francisco and Karl, so far as was known, re- 
turned to Seattle. 

"Not long after he went there I went to Seattle my- 
self. I had made up my mind to leave the Pacific Coast 

130 



and return east and I had decided I would go north and 
then make the overland journey over the Oregon trail. 
I was desirous of seeing the Puget Sound country and 
went there before setting out across the mountains. I 
had been in Seattle but a short time when I heard that 
Karl, or Old Karl, as I had come to call him, was in the 
town and that he was on his death bed. The day after 
I heard that he was there I heard that he was dead. I 
then heard that he had requested to be buried on the 
island in the lake east of the town and next day I saw a 
box containing his body loaded into a boat and rowed 
to the island's shore. 

"This set me to thinking. I recalled the story that 
Old Karl used to tell in California about a box of gold 
being buried on that very island. I began to wonder if 
there could be any truth in the story. I did not long 
consider the matter however, and soon dismissed the 
story from my mind. 

"All the following winter I spent in Seattle, as the 
season was getting late and I did not care at that time 
of year to attempt the passage of the mountains. Next 
spring, however, I began making preparations for the 
journey eastward. I was almost ready to depart when 
the story of the buried treasure on the island came again 
to my mind and I determined to cross the lake before 
leaving for the east and determine if possible if there 
was any evidence of the truth of Old Karl's story. I as- 
certained where the grave was situated and crossed to 
the island in a canoe. The scene was indeed beauti- 
ful. I recalled what Old Karl had said about the beauty 
of the surroundings. If what he said about the treasure 



13 1 



were as true as what he said about the scenery, the 
treasure was there beyond a doubt. 

"No axe had at that time desecrated the lovely shores. 
The dark forest of fir trees sloped up the silent hills and 
bluffs of the island in purest and richest beauty. Lake, 
island, trees and hills were serene and immaculate. To 
the southeast, high in the steel blue of the heavens, I 
beheld the great mountain top of which Karl had spoken. 
Its enormous dome stood out in dazzling white against 
the sky. So high it was that its snowy summit seemed 
almost detached from the earth and abiding in majesty 
in the heavens. The island's lonely shores were de- 
lightful in their seclusion. The forest everywhere on the 
island itself and on the opposite shores had been un- 
touched. The lake was tranquil and smooth as glass 
and the reflection of the rugged shores abode in its limpid 
waters. 

"I decided to remain all night on the island. I drew 
my canoe under some overhanging trees and bushes 
along the pebbly shore and made my way to the top of 
the bluff above it. There, where I could look out over 
the lake and forest and to the mountain to the southeast, 
and to the range west of Puget Sound, I made a little 
fire, broiled a spruce grouse for my supper and as the 
sun sank behind the mountain range whose summits and 
peaks were sharply outlined in the western sky, I 
wrapped myself in my blanket and sank to sleep in soli- 
tude. 

"How long I slept without waking I do not know, but 
as the moon was swinging low in the western sky I sud- 
denly sat bolt upright and strained my ears to hear some- 
thing that I thought had awakened me. In a moment I 

132 



distinctly heard voices. Then I heard a boat grating 
on the beach. In the silence of the wilderness and at 
that hour of the night these unusual sounds seemed 
strange and uncanny. Slight and unreal as they seemed, 
they yet intruded upon the sylvan solitudes with an un- 
expected harshness. I rose from my bed of fir boughs 
and stole cautiously to the edge of the bluff. In the 
pale moonlight on the shore I saw three men getting out 
of a boat. They walked along the water's edge for forty 
or fifty yards and then stopped and appeared to be ex- 
amining some object on the shore. They appeared to be 
looking at a pile of rocks situated in the sand at the 
water's edge. Then after a few minutes contemplation 
of the rocks and stones, two of the men picked up a 
rather long slab-like piece of rock and started along the 
shore again while the third man walked ahead of them, 
apparently leading the way. Soon they turned into the 
bushes and trees and began scrambling up the bluff, 
which at that point was less steep than it was where the 
boat had landed. I heard them proceeding eastward to- 
ward the center of the island and absorbed with curiosity, 
I followed them. When they had gone a hundred yards 
or more I saw a light flicker up among the bushes and 
ferns and occasionly caught glimpses of the shadowy 
forms busily engaged at something, I knew not what. 

"I stole carefully up among the trees and saw the 
men at work placing the slab of rock in an upright posi- 
tion at the end of a mound of earth. One of the men 
was Wild Bill and as I recognized him I began to under- 
stand what, up to that moment, had been a mystery. 
The mound marked the spot of Old Karl's grave and 
Wild Bill was keeping the promise he had made and 

1:13 



was erecting a monument over the place of burial. As 
the quality or value of the monument had not been 
specified in the promise, he evidently considered the slab 
of rock sufficient compliance therewith. 

"The rock having been put in place to the satisfaction 
of Wild Bill, the men at once began stepping off dis- 
tances from the grave. One held a pine knot torch 
which flickered among the deep shadows and pitchy 
darkness among the trees, while the other two eagerly 
and hastily paced back and forth from the grave to some 
point which they appeared to be trying to locate. In a 
few moments they apparently had located the spot they 
were seeking. Then as the man with the torch moved 
to the spot, the other two with pick and shovel began 
digging with all their might. 

"I moved nearer and watched them from a nearby 
clump of spirea bushes and ferns. Eagerly and most in- 
dustriously they toiled until a hole some four feet deep 
had been dug. Then their spade struck something that 
gave forth a metallic sound. I could scarcely believe 
my ears. Was it true after all that Old Karl did have 
a buried treasure and were these men going to get it? 
The men, now utterly oblivious of their surroundings 
were working with feverish haste. 

"As I watched them it flashed through my mind that 
I might as well have the treasure (if in truth there were 
one) as they. At least I thought, they are not entitled to 
it and I will see if I cannot give these men a little sur- 
prise. 

"The surroundings and the hour of the night were 
ideal for my purpose. I recalled Old Karl's German 
brogue and though I knew I could not accurately repro- 

134 



duce it, I felt that I could do well enough for my pur- 
pose. Accordingly, without further delay and in as wierd 
tones as I could summon and with as much German ac- 
cent as I could put upon my words, I called out sharply, 
'The treasurer is mine, leave it alone.' 

"The effect was magical. The three men raised their 
heads and with blanched faces peered into the gloom. 
They whispered to one another and cowered together as 
though fearing to move. For a long time they stood 
motionless and occasionally whispering to each other. 
Then, after a long silence, they began to work feverishly 
with shovel and pick and I again spoke the words that 
had apparently struck terror to their souls. 

"Panic then seized upon them and gathering spade 
and pick they scrambled from the hole. The last one 
out however, held by a bucket-like handle, in one of his 
hands, an iron box which at the last moment he had 
pulled from the bottom of the hole. As he stepped out 
of the hole a shot rang out with deafening sound upon 
the stillness of the night and the man with the iron box 
fell dead upon the ground. His companion and Wild 
Bill yelled in an ecstacy of terror and fled among the 
trees and tangled vines as though the imps of the lower 
regions were clutching at their heels. 

"In another moment I beheld a sight that sent a shud- 
der through my frame. An uncouth being in tattered 
garments and of giant frame, came out of the shadows 
into the flickering light of the torch which lay on the 
ground where it had fallen from Wild Bill's hands. Like 
a monstrous ape it sprang and bounded in stooping pos- 
ture over the ground. Long, matted hair hung over its 
neck and ears and it gazed, now at the fallen figure upon 

135 



the ground and then into the shadows, with gleaming, 
restless eyes. Bare-footed and with scant clothing, the 
figure appeared in the fitful torchlight. 

"It was the figure of a man, but it seemed an appari- 
tion as I gazed upon it from my place of hiding. To say 
that I was astonished is putting it mildly. I was abso- 
lutely astounded. I had interfered with the plans of 
Wild Bill and his companions, but the appearance of 
the wild, spook-like figure was not down on my program. 
I did not know, or dream, that another human being was 
upon the island, much less one of this sort. 

"I watched the strange, wild thing and as I looked it 
picked up the iron box that had fallen from the hand 
of the unfortunate man who had been killed and 
dropped it back in the hole again. Then putting down 
the rifle which it carried it began with hands .and feet to 
fill in the dirt and cover the box as it had been before 
the digging began. 

"I concluded that I was no longer desirous of gaining 
possession of the box and stealing as noiselessly as pos- 
sible back along the trail I had come, I returned to my 
bed of fir boughs from which I had first heard the ap- 
proach of the three men to the island's shores. I did 
not sleep however, and as morning dawned, I was in 
my canoe paddling back across the lake to the town. 
As I landed on the western shore I saw Wild Bill, and I 
realized that he knew I had come from the island, and 
the look he gave me assured me that if he ever got a 
chance he would murder me in cold blood. I saw at 
once that he held me responsible for the shooting of his 
companion. I felt that it certainly behooved me to get 
out of the country. Before leaving, however, I found 

136 



out that Old Karl and a companion of his had been set 
upon by a ruffian band several years before in Seattle, 
apparently for the purpose of robbery. It was rumored 
that they had a large sum of money in gold which they 
had either earned or stolen from the fur company and 
the gang who attacked them had endeavored to get 
possession of it. Karl and his comrade however, suc- 
cessfully defended themselves and retained possession 
of the gold, but the comrade, who was a man of im- 
mense physique, had received a blow on the head during 
the melee which temporarily laid him out and which 
rendered him permanently insane. He recovered his 
wonted physical strength, but never regained his reason. 
It was commonly understood that about the time when 
Old Karl departed for California, his comrade took the 
gold and paddled across the lake to the island and there 
ever after made his home. He had buried the gold and 
then lived in solitude upon the island's wooded shores. 
No one acquainted with the facts ever even approached 
those shores, for many had gone there and had never re- 
turned. With an evil hate of human kind, the demen- 
ted creature watched his sylvan domain w r ith jealous 
eye. His unerring rifle sent death to everyone who in- 
truded upon his chosen home. How I escaped, I do not 
know, but what happened is as I have told you. Wild 
Bill and his friends, I afterward found out, thought the 
wild man of the island had died and had therefore made 
the effort to recover the gold. But they had gone there 
under cover of darkness to prevent others from finding 
it out should they have gained possession of it? 

"The men who had buried Old Karl had been paid by 
dm before his death to bury his body where he directed 

137 



and they had acted according to his direction and were 
probably newcomers in the town and were ignorant of 
the fact that the demented man made the island his 
home. How Wild Bill and his companions located the 
treasure so readily I never knew, but I suppose the long 
association of Wild Bill and Old Karl in the improvised 
hospital at the mining camp in California enabled Wild 
Bill to come in possession of information that materially 
assisted him in finding the object of his search. That, 
coupled with information in the possession of the men 
who buried Old Karl and who were undoubtedly Wild 
Bill's companions on the night of which I have spoken, 
made it comparatively easy for them to find the buried 
pot of gold. Whether anyone ever successfully dug up 
the treasure and carried it away I do not know. For all 
I know it may still be buried beneath the trees upon the 
enchanted island. 

"I have said that no one ever approached the island 
in safety while the demented man was there and no one 
did except myself and those who buried the body of 
Old Karl. How it came that they were unmolested, no 
one knew unless it was that the deranged man who 
guarded the island in some way understood that the 
body which was being buried was that of his friend and 
therefore allowed the burial party to come and go un- 
molested. 

"At any rate," continued my uncle, "I decided that I 
knew all I cared to know of the situation and set out at 
once over the mountains upon my long eastward journey 
over the Oregon trail." 



138 



CHAPTER XII. 

HFTER spending the night at the cabin, my Uncle 
and I started out in the morning to overtake the 
wagon train. We knew that the emigrants would 
go into camp early the night before, and that after a half 
day's travel or more, that we could overtake them. I 
remember how concerned I was as we set out from the 
cabin on the trail once more, and as I thought of the 
vast reaches of mountain and desert ahead of us to the 
westward, I felt my outlook to be a gloomy one indeed. 
Of course I enjoyed the sojourn in the wilderness and 
enjoyed the wild, primeval life of the hunter and 
pioneer, but the object which lay closest to my heart of 
course had not been attained, and there were times when 
my long journeys across the plains and through the 
mountains seemed the height of foolishness and the 
acme of poor judgment. 

I say my "journeys", putting it in the plural, for the 
reason that I made many such, or at least they would 
be considered many when the nature of the journeys is 
considered. In all, I made four trips across the plains 
before my object was in fact attained, and before I 
settled down for a more or less quiet existence in the 
State of Iowa. 

At the particular time of which I speak, when my 
Uncle and I were leaving the cabin and proceeding west- 
ward along the trail, my spirits were for a time at the 

139 



lowest ebb. I thought of all that I was leaving behind, 
and of all I was approaching before. I thought of how 
I had forsaken civilization entirely and of how I had 
cast my lot in the wilderness, and of how I was going 
farther and farther away from the one object of my 
heart's desire. 

I thought of the terrible deserts ahead, of which we 
had been told at Ft. Laramie. I thought of the wastes 
of sand and rock and burning heat. And in my own 
life I thought of the waste places, of the wide reaches 
of months and years that had yielded no returns. It was 
a sickening thought, yet I felt that it could not have 
been otherwise. And knowing as I did why it had all 
come about, why the situation was as it was I doggedly 
determined to go ahead, to never waver from my pur- 
pose and to leave my bones in the shifting sands if need 
be, to be scorched by the sun and gnawed by the wolves 
rather than to return to the life I had left in New York 
and be a broken reed without any faults perhaps, but 
without any virtues. Rather than be a clerk at the beck 
and call of this person and that I would die in Nature's 
grim environment, satisfied that with all my power I had 
contended with elemental forces, rather than to weakly 
submit to the domination of a system that I loathed. 
Rather, if necessary, would I spend half my life in isola- 
tion if at the end of that time I could become a man 
capable of making my own way and capable of effec- 
tively championing my own ideals. Rather would I do 
this than to remain in a system where I could not cope 
with anything and where my ideals never would be 
known. Rather would I risk my life than to submit to a 
slavery that I considered worse than death. 

140 



"After all," I thought to myself, "I am not without 
some success. I am an entirely different man from 
what I was when I left New York. If only certain per- 
sons whom I knew in that great city could be here now 
I fancy that in this environment the tables would be 
turned and I would be the superior and they the in- 
ferior. And," said I to myself, "I would a million times 
rather be superior in this environment than in that in 
which they are superior. I would like to have some of 
them here now," said I to myself, "and I fancy even 
Harry Lee would not find himself superior as he did 
when we met in Adel." 

In due time we caught up with the wagon train and 
with it we proceeded westward across the mountains 
that were green with evergreen forests and fresh with 
tumultuous streams and resounding water-falls, until at 
length we neared the deserts on the other side. We 
were approaching the land of the Mormons and in that 
land we had adventures of no ordinary kind. 

There I encountered Harry Lee, and there our 
Westward journey came to an untimely end. With the 
exception of Vivian Butler and myself every person in 
our entire caravan was massacred by Indians and Mor- 
mons. 

There were two attacks made upon emigrants by the 
combined forces of Mormons and Indians. One of these 
has been very fully recorded in the history of this country, 
and particularly in the history of the State of Utah, but 
the other and the one which particularly affected me, has 
not been so recorded. 

To get an idea of the kind of people that we had to 
deal with, and of the kind of country that we were 

141 



traveling through, I think it would not be amiss for me 
to tell you briefly of what is known in the West, as the 
Mountain Meadows Massacre. It occurred, according to 
the historian in Washington County, in the south- 
western corner of the State of Utah. Some writers, how- 
ever, have placed the site of the massacre in Iron County 
immediately adjoining Washington County on the north. 
But in any event, the historian tells us that an emigrant 
train from Missouri and Arkansas had gone through the 
Mormon country and was proceeding westward by the 
southern route from Salt Lake City to California. You 
will recall that it was in the year 1857 of which I am tell- 
ing you, and that it was in that year that President 
Buchanan sent an army against the Mormons to put 
down an alleged insurrection or rebellion against the 
Government. It seems only fair to the Mormons, how- 
ever, to say that no such rebellion or insurrection had 
taken place, or at least not to the extent that the Pres- 
ident at that time seemed to assert or maintain. Some 
have even charged the President with playing politics, 
and have stated that he was in sympathy with the South, 
and in order to divert a large portion of the Union Army 
from the scene of operations of the impending Civil War, 
that he had sent it to the arid deserts of Utah. But in 
any event, before the army arrived, the Mormons were 
aware of its approach, and their state of mind was an 
ugly one toward the Government and toward all Gentiles 
that came that way. They did everything in their power 
to harass and annoy the emigrant trains that passed 
westward over the California and Oregon Trails. They 
burned the forage along the way, and refused to sell 
provisions and supplies of any kind to the emigrants who 

142 



offered to buy them. Also of course they made ready to 
receive the army and to prevent it from establishing 
its supremacy within their domain. And this they very 
substantially accomplished. No pitched battle, however, 
was fought between the troops of the Government and 
the Mormons, and the differences between the Govern- 
ment and the Mormons were settled peaceably. The 
army, however, suffered untold privations in the Mor- 
mon country on account of the lack of provisions and 
supplies, and after the trouble between the Mormons and 
the Government had been adjusted, the army withdrew 
some forty miles south of Salt Lake City and established 
what has since been known as Camp Floyd, and there re- 
mained until the outbreak of the Civil War. These 
troops, it should be said, were under the command of 
General Albert Sidney Johnston, a splendid soldier and 
a consummate general, who afterwards became famous 
as a rebel leader in the Civil War. 

But I started to tell of the Mountain Meadows Mas- 
sacre. This emigrant train of which I have spoken, 
which had gone from Arkansas and Missouri to 
Salt Lake City and was proceeding to California, had 
experienced all kinds of difficulties while passing 
through the Mormon country and perhaps the emi- 
grants had been guilty of some indiscretions by way 
of taking by force certain provisions when the Mormons 
refused to sell them to them. This particular emigrant 
train, however, may not have been guilty of these indis- 
cretions, but others had been, so that the feeling aroused 
among the Mormons against the emigrants was one of 
pronounced hostility. This particular train had reached 
Parowan in Iron County, and had proceeded from there 

143 



to Cedar and a little way beyond Cedar had gone into 
camp in what is known as the Mountain Meadows. A 
stream flowed through a valley or stretch of land where 
forage was available and on either side of the stream a 
few hundred yards apart arose banks or bluffs, so that 
the encampment was made in a small valley. The 
emigrants went into camp on Saturday night, and on 
Sunday morning were attacked by what afterwards 
proved to be Indians and Mormons. 

The story of the massacre of course has many times 
been told, and aside from the fact that it will give you 
an impression of the kind of people that I had to deal 
with while going through the Mormon country, no use- 
ful purpose could be served in again repeating all of its 
horrible and revolting details, but in order that you may 
receive to some extent, an impression of the nature of at 
least some of the people that I was dealing with, I shall 
briefly recite the outstanding features of the story. 

Sunday morning the emigrants arose and were pre- 
paring breakfast when a volley of shots sounded out on 
the morning air, and several of the men and women in 
the camp fell dead. That was the signal for the begin- 
ning of a four-day siege. A warwhoop resounded from 
the surrounding rocks, and the emigrants thinking them- 
selves attacked by Indians, as in part they were, hastily 
made preparations for defending themselves. They 
rushed to their wagons, procured their arms, and getting 
behind the wagons, returned the fire as best they could. 
They dug small trenches and sunk the wagon wheels to 
the hubs in the trenches, to the end that the wagons 
would afford better means of defense and shelter. For 
four days they were besieged and their sufferings were 

144 



intense. A stream of fresh water flowed a few yards 
from the camp, but it was impossible to procure water 
during the day, and the wounded suffered the agonies of 
thirst while water flowed placidly near. At night a few 
adventurous ones among the emigrants procured water 
and helped the wounded as best they could. 

On the fourth day of the siege, an emissary came from 
the attackers toward the camp, bearing a white flag of 
truce, and the emigrants in response thereto, sent out to 
meet the emissary, a little girl. After a brief parley it 
was decided that the emigrants should surrender. They 
had of course by this time discovered that their attackers 
were not all Indians, the emissary himself being a white 
man. And this white man informed them that in order 
that they might not arouse the further hostility of the 
Indians, they should surrender their guns and place them 
all in a wagon out of their reach, which the emigrants 
very foolishly did. What was known as the Mormon 
militia then filed out of their hiding places and forming 
the emigrants in a line, formed a double line of Mor- 
mons on each side of the emigrants and started to march 
them away from the wagons. The emigrants being 
wholly unarmed after having placed their weapons in 
the wagons, did as directed. They had gone but a little 
way after the surrender when at a given signal, the 
butchery began. Guns were placed at the heads of the 
unfortunate victims, and even of the women and some 
of the children, and their brains were blown out. The 
Indians of course swooped down upon the helpless 
emigrants in demoniacal fury, and all of the barbarity 
of an Indian massacre began. Men and women were 
slaughtered and scalped and their bodies dismembered; 

145 



children were knocked senseless with the butts of guns 
and shot and scalped. It is said that only one grown 
person escaped with his life and that he was afterwards 
caught and killed by the Mormons in the State of 
Nevada more than a hundred miles from the scene of the 
slaughter. Seventeen children, however, were spared, 
and were taken to Mormon homes in Utah. These were 
afterwards rescued by the Government and returned, as 
far as possible, to their homes. Aside from these seven- 
teen children, the entire number that were in the 
emigrant train were slaughtered. On the site of the 
slaughter there was afterwards erected a cairn upon 
which was the inscription : 

"Here one hundred and twenty men, women and 
children were massacred in cold blood early in 
September, 1857. They were from Arkansas. Ven- 
genance is mine; I will repay, saith the Lord." 

At the time, it was given out that the massacre had 
been committed entirely by Indians, but the fact that 
some of the children had been spared, and other un- 
usual incidents of the slaughter, aroused suspicion and 
the matter was investigated and it was found that the 
massacre had been the joint work of the Indians and the 
Mormons. The Mormon church, however, and the Mor- 
mon officials, disclaimed any resposibility in the matter, 
and historians have decided that their disclaimer was 
well taken. However, the leader of the party that com- 
mitted the atrocious act was a person by the name of 
John D. Lee, a prominent Mormon. It is said also that 
Lee discovering that he was suspected of the crime, fled 
entirely from civilization and took up his abode in a hut 

146 



on the banks of the Colorado River, and that a com- 
panion with him kept a sharp lookout in all directions 
and that at the slightest suggestion of the approach of 
danger, he fled from the hut and took refuge in a cave 
in the side of a canyon of that renowned stream. It is 
said for many years he lived a hermit's existence in this 
way trying to avoid the just retribution that was to over- 
take him. Other accounts have stated, however, that he 
fled to Mexico and took refuge with Mormons in that 
country, and that he was apprehended there by the 
Government, but in any event, it is a fact that he was ap- 
prehended — whether in Utah or Mexico I do not know — 
and was placed under arrest, tried and found guilty and 
sentenced to be shot, and in fact was shot by a firing 
squad while seated on the side of a rude coffin which 
had been prepared to receive his remains. 

From this, of course, you will get some idea of the 
atrocities that were perpetrated in the Mormon country. 
This recital of this story of the massacre, however, by 
itself perhaps would be unfair to the Mormons, and as I 
have said, the Mormon authorities have fairly well es- 
tablished the fact that the act was unauthorized by the 
authorities, and was disowned entirely by them. 

Further it might be well to say that the Mormons had 
taken part with the Government in the war with Mexico, 
and that they supported the Union in the Civil War that 
later took place in this country. However, that all sides 
of the question may be seen, it would also not be out of 
place to state that when the Mormons first went to Utah, 
that territory was not a part of the United States Govern- 
ment, but belonged to the Government of Mexico. The 
Mormons went there originally in. 1847 and settled "on 

147 



alien soil in what was then the Mexican Province of Cali- 
fornia, which with another province, New Mexico, com- 
prised the present States of California, Nevada, Utah, 
the Territory of Arizona, and parts of Wyoming, Colo- 
rado and New Mexico." Many of course at that time be- 
lieved, and still believe that they went there to get away 
from the United States Government, but they had only 
been there a year when the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo 
was signed which ceded the Provinces of California and 
New Mexico to the United States. 

It has been stated that the Mormons settled in the 
deserts of Utah because the land was a part of the prop- 
erty of the Government of Mexico, and that they settled 
there to get out of and away from the jurisdiction of the 
United States. It may seem strange that they did not 
proceed westward until they came to the State of Cali- 
fornia which was also a part of Mexican territory, and 
which of course was a much more productive country 
and a much more pleasant one in which to live, but the 
apparent reason for this was that California was filling 
up with the Gentiles and that the Mormons did not desire 
the persecution which they would undoubtedly have re- 
ceived if they had gone on and settled in a Gentile com- 
munity. So it is that the fanatical hordes settled in the 
burning deserts of the West, and there founded a com- 
monwealth. We must accord them the honor, however, of 
making the desert blossom as the rose, and of making 
it bring forth from the sands and hard and rocky soil 
of Utah, crops that at the time never would have been 
considered possible by anyone other than the Mormons 
themselves. 



148 



This in brief, is the history of the Mountain Meadows 
Massacre which the historians have recorded and to a 
certain extent is the history of the founding of the Mor- 
mon Colony or State in the Territory of Utah. 



149 



CHAPTER XIII. 

j^^HERE was, also, another massacre in the very same 
^^^ year in which the far-famed massacre took place, 
which took place on the banks of the Raft River 
just over the Utah boundary line in the State of Idaho, 
and in which massacre I came very nearly being one of 
the victims. Our emigrant train instead of following the 
southern trail from Salt Lake City on the way to Cali- 
fornia, followed the northern trail on the way to Oregon. 
Miss Butler, as she had told me farther back along the 
trail, was bound for Oregon, and I had decided to go 
there also. My Uncle, however, had stopped in Salt 
Lake City. I was anxious to see the Pacific Coast and 
the tremendous mountain peaks rising in snowclad 
grandeur above the dark evergreen forests. I wanted to 
see the salmon come up the Columbia River, and I 
wanted to visit the soft rainy region of Puget Sound. I 
wanted to see the wonderful lakes in the mountain soli- 
tudes and the forests of giant trees stretching mile after 
mile over majestic mountain sides. 

As I have said, however, my Uncle stopped at Salt 
Lake City, as he was curious to see the result of the 
Mormons' westward pilgrimage. He viewed the Mor- 
mons with utter contempt, but he had seen them cross- 
ing Iowa the year before, pushing their hand carts on 
their way westward from Gentile persecution, and he 



150 



was anxious to see the result of their efforts in the desert 
lands around the Great Salt Lake. 

Like the emigrants from Arkansas and Missouri, our 
train as we proceeded westward, was encamped on the 
banks of a pleasant stream, and while in camp we were 
attacked by a party composed of Indians and Mormons. 
This place might well also have been called the Moun- 
tain Meadows Massacre, because it took place in a de- 
lightful valley where good grass was abundant and 
where the river flowed through a valley on each side of 
which rose the rocks and cliffs of the mountains. In this 
particular valley on the north bank of the river, several 
hundred yards from the stream itself, was what has been 
called The City of Rocks, so named because of the fact 
that the peculiar formation of the rocks on that side of 
the stream, when seen from a distance, give the impres- 
sion frequently conveyed by the spires and towers of a 
town or city. Among these rocks the Mormons and 
Indians had concealed themselves, and while we were in 
camp on the river shores, we were attacked. 

It certainly was a rude awakening from our pleasur- 
able anticipation, as we arose in the morning to enjoy 
the pleasant surroundings of the camp. We of course 
had been traveling through a desert and when we came 
to the Raft River which was a mountain stream free from 
alkali, and fed by the mountain snows, and upon whose 
banks in this particular valley was grass in abundance 
for our horses, we felt that we had come to an oasis in 
the desert that was delightful indeed. But instead of it 
being a delightful ending of our hardships, it was but 
the beginning of a tragedy which was to end not only the 



151 



hardships, but even the lives of practically every one in 
the caravan. 

The attack upon our emigrant train was made in 
substantially the same way that the one was made in the 
Mountain Meadows Massacre in the southwestern part 
of the State of Utah. An emissary was sent forth from 
the attacking party with a flag of truce, and when he ap- 
proached so that his features could be recognized, I was 
astonished to see that the emissary was none other than 
my redoubtable enemy, Harry Lee. Of course the 
minute that I saw him a great many things flashed 
through my mind, and instantly I knew that Julia King 
must be somewhere in the Mormon country. Why she 
should be there, I did not know, but that she must be 
there, I had little doubt, for I knew Harry Lee would not 
have been there unless she had also been there. I was 
in the act of drawing a bead upon his fair temple and 
was actually pressing the trigger when I refrained from 
completing the act of pulling the trigger and firing the 
shot for fear that to do so might cause the massacre of 
the entire company who made up our caravan. In view 
of the fact that this was shortly afterwards done any- 
how, of course it would have made little difference, but 
at the time, out of deference to my comrades in the 
emigrant train, I refrained from firing the shot. Also 
thinking that perhaps I might get some information as to 
the whereabouts of Miss King, (for I felt sure that she 
must be somewhere in that vicinity) I refrained from 
snuffing out the life of Harry Lee while I had the chance. 

To say that I was surprised and astonished, is to put 
it mildly. I could not imagine why Julia King should 
be in that desert land surrounded by what to me were 

152 



the unspeakable Mormons, but I did not doubt for a 
minute but that she was somewhere in that part of the 
country. 

The emigrants and the Mormons held a parley just as 
they had done in the Mountain Meadows Massacre in the 
southwestern part of the State, and while they were do- 
ing so, Vivian Butler and I made our escape. One old 
man I remember particularly, came to me while the 
parley was being held, and told me most emphatically 
that if I valued my scalp that I would depart instantly 
for parts unknown. He said the Mormons were frauds 
and were not to be trusted, and that like sheep, we were 
being led to the slaughter. I had little doubt but what 
he told the truth, and seeking out Miss Butler, we im- 
mediately set about preparing to make our escape. The 
old man also told me that the United States troops were 
on their way to the Mormon country. This we after- 
ward found to be true, but of course the troops did not 
prevent the massacre that followed. 

I must say, however, that Miss Butler's parents had 
both been killed by the first volley that was fired from 
the rocks by the Mormons and Indians. She of course 
needed no persuasion to convince her that what the old 
man said was true, and though under great anguish in 
leaving the bodies of her parents, she immediately ac- 
quiesced in my proposition to get out of that part of the 
country as soon as possible, and with me she took her 
departure. I shall always consider it a remarkable 
thing that she and I were able to escape the watchful 
eyes of the Indians and Mormons but under cover of 
darkness we did manage to get away. After we had 
made good our escape the emigrants, including the old 

153 



man who had warned us of the treachery of the Mor- 
mons, were slaughtered in cold blood just as they had 
been in the other Mountain Meadows Massacre. 

I say "the other Mountain Meadows Massacre" for the 
reason that I think this one could fittingly be spoken of 
in the same terms, for it took place in a mountain 
meadow, and it was a massacre from start to finish. The 
emigrants were all killed, including women and children, 
their scalps adorning the persons of the Indian warriors, 
and their bodies being dismembered and scattered about, 
and their bones being gnawed by the wolves. Like the 
bodies in the other massacre, they were shortly after- 
wards buried in a shallow grave by the Mormons, but 
were afterwards discovered by the soldiers who went to 
the scene of the slaughter to have been dug up by the 
wolves and the bones to have been scattered about many 
yards from the scene of the burial. The wagons were 
burned, and for many years the iron parts of the vehicles 
remained on the scene, giving mute testimony of the 
terrible destruction that had taken place. Friends of 
mine who passed over the old trail more than twenty 
years after the slaughter, have told me that the non-in- 
flammable parts of the wagons yet remained on the 
scene as evidence of the perfidy of the Mormons. 

But to get back to my own personal part of the story. 
Vivian Butler and I made good our escape, and we 
managed to get out of the Mormon country and back to 
the protection of our friends. We of course renounced 
all further intention of going to Oregon, she, because of 
her sorrow and dread of the wilderness, and I, because 
of my hatred of the Mormons and my desire to get in 
communication with the United States troops of which 

154 



the old emigrant had told me. If it were really true 
that these troops were on the way to Utah, by all means 
I intended to see them and return with them if possible 
and join in the expedition against the Mormons. It was 
my intention to proceed to Fort Bridger and there leave 
Miss Butler, or put her on the stage enroute for the East. 
If the troops came there, I would join them. 

Our journey back along the trail, however, was such 
that at the time I doubted if we should ever reach the 
fort. For a long way we journeyed on foot in constant 
dread of surprise and attack. Miss Butler was a 
splendid girl and wholesome in every way. Once as we 
sat concealed under some overhanging rocks and looked 
out on the moonlit waste, she suggested that I had saved 
her life. And it was true that I had. 

As we sat looking out over the wide arid land over 
which the shadows of the clouds were moving, I thought 
of how unkind were the dispensations of fate. I had 
saved the life of this young lady and now must protect 
her and see her through to the fort in safety. Why, oh! 
Why could not this young lady have been Julia King? 
I looked out over the shadows and the strange silent land 
appearing as shadowy and as unreal as a dream. I was 
far from home and far from Julia King. I was indeed 
risking all, yet Vivian Butler and I resumed our journey 
and never again was the subject that seemed to have 
come uppermost in our minds alluded to. 

With dogged determination we set out along the trail. 
We plodded and scrambled and walked all night long. 
The fact that we got out of the Mormon country at all 
was due purely to an accident. We were assisted by two 
men whom by the merest chance, we came upon, who 

155 



were themselves endeavoring to get out of the country. 
They were traveling with horses and a buckboard and 
were of course, Gentiles, and consented to take us with 
them. 

In due time we reached Fort Bridger. The troops 
were not there and the fort itself had been burned to the 
ground by the Mormons, and the provisions and grain 
had been stolen and burned. We soon decided to keep 
on and were in a short time proceeding eastward. Early 
in October we arrived at Ft. Laramie, and found the 
troops there. We drove right into the midst of a party 
of soldiers strolling about the fort. In the center of the 
group and the center of all eyes were two strapping 
troopers with a young lady between them. She strolled 
along with a hand on a stalwart arm on either side. 
She smiled and talked gaily with them all. As we rode 
up she turned to look at us as our horses' hoofs re- 
sounded on the ground. At that instant my gaze met 
hers and I found myself looking straight into the eyes 
of Julia King. 

Of course I was surprised to see Julia King at that 
time and place. In one sense, however, I was not greatly 
surprised, for as I have already stated, the presence of 
Harry Lee in the Mormon country assured me in my 
own mind, of the presence of Julia King also. I felt 
sure that if not in the immediate vicinity, she could not 
be far away. My meeting with her at this time was more 
satisfactory to me than any meeting that I had ever had 
with her before. The long weeks' and months' sojourn 
on tfce prairies and over the plains and in the mountains 
had made an entirely different type of man of me from 
the type that I had been before. I suppose that some- 

1-56 



thing of the vigor of life appeared in my demeanor and 
in my bearing, and perhaps even to a certain extent 
illuminated my countenance when I met her at Fort 
Laramie at the time of which I am speaking. Of course 
those things being true, I made an entirely different im- 
pression upon her at that time from any that I had ever 
made upon her before. 

It is characteristic of the weak always to make no im- 
pression in the world, so far as getting anything for 
themselves is concerned, and of course on the other hand 
it is characteristic of strength that it ever asserts itself, 
establishes itself, makes its own way and takes for itself 
the things which it desires. Something of that strength 
I think appeared in my make-up at that time, and some- 
thing of that impression was made upon Julia King. I 
felt it, and I think that she must have felt it. The fact 
is, a person in this world can get what he is capable of 
getting, and nothing more, and generally he will get 
nothing less. 

I remember very well, and I never would forget if I 
lived a thousand years, the expression upon the face of 
Julia King when I first greeted her at the time of which I 
am speaking. The old expression of unconscious con- 
descension took temporary form upon her countenance, 
but withered and flickered out and died as I stood be- 
fore her and looked her straight in the eyes. It was per- 
haps the best exhibition of proof to me of the supre- 
macy of strength that I had ever seen. Its supremacy 
was instantly manifest and instantly asserted itself. 

No doubt you will think from this that my suit for the 
hand of Julia King was at that time at an end, and that 
my contest with Harry Lee was then over, but such was 

Iffl 



not the case. I have often wondered since then why it 
might not have been so, and I have often thought that it 
is rather strange that it was not so, but the fact remains 
that it was not. Why it should have taken me not only 
many months, but several years longer to accomplish the 
desired end may seem rather strange to you, and it also 
seems rather strange to me, but as I have looked back 
over the events of those times, always there has arisen 
in a rather vague and indefinite way in my mind the 
idea that such things are achieved at their appointed 
time and not before. 

It is characteristic of lovers, I suppose, to feel that 
since the beginning of time they were made for each 
other, and that throughout all the cycle of the ages, the 
whole Universe has ordered itself to bring about their 
happy union. It is characteristic of them, I believe also, 
to think that it was ordained from the beginning of the 
world that they should meet at the time and in the place 
when and where they do in fact meet, and that their par- 
ticular consummation of happiness is apart from and 
different from all others. They regard it apparently, as 
a kind of fate which is not to be changed by mortal 
affairs. 

I suppose that in my lifetime I have had, to a certain 
extent at least, some such ideas, and in a rather in- 
definite way I contented myself during the time of which 
I am speaking with taking it for granted that such things 
were true, and that all would come out right in its ap- 
pointed time. This is a rather vague and indefinite way 
of stating that lovers believe in an indefinite and vague 
way, that some power transcending the power of mortals 
plans these things and carries out the plans. Or to put 

158 



it in another way, they believe, though perhaps in an 
indefinite way, that some power back of and behind the 
world that controls the events of all mankind, enters 
into the affairs of mortals and directs and carries out ac- 
cording to its own plans, the work and the affairs of 
mortals that makes up the round of human endeavor. 

And I might say at this point that this question of 
whether any supreme power enters into the affairs of 
man is really one of the main questions that I am deal- 
ing with in my story. There are those who seem to 
think that such a power does enter into the affairs of 
man and that it enters into them to such an extent as 
that it is supreme in mortal affairs, and that mortal 
affairs, regardless of mortal effort, are carried out and 
brought about according to a preconceived plan which 
no human endeavor could to any extent change or alter. 
I suppose those people are generally know as fatalists. 

On the other hand, there are those who believe that if 
there is any such supreme power back of and behind the 
affairs of man, that it does not enter into mortal affairs 
at all, and has nothing whatever to do with the consum- 
mation of the work and plans of humanity. They think 
that any reliance upon the Supreme Being, or whatever 
power there may be behind the world, if there is any, is 
foolish, fatuous and practically suicidal. This vague 
and indefinite idea of some power or some Supreme Be- 
ing can scarcely be considered as anything else than an 
idea of the Creator or of God, and the question is: Does 
He to any extent enter into the affairs of humankind? I 
do not think that He does. 

But this is a subject that I shall not discuss further at 
this time, though I want to devote a little time to it 

150 



farther along in my story. Whether the Supreme Being 
enters into the affairs of mortals or not, and whether the 
postponement of my winning of the hand of Julia King 
was to any extent due to a prearranged plan or not. the 
fact remains, nevertheless that it was postponed. A 
good many times since then, however, I have thought of 
the words in the Book of Ecclesiastes : 

"To everything there is a season, and a time to every 
purpose under the Heaven." 

And I have often thought that perhaps it was best 
that the consummation of the happiness which I sought 
was postponed and I have often thought that in the 
meantime there was a development of character and a 
maturity of mind and personality upon my part, that 
was highly desirable before the desired consummation 
should be brought about, and that in the end, everything 
worked out for the best. 

But at the time of which I am speaking, when I met 
Julia King at Fort Laramie, after the massacre by the 
Mormons, the meeting, though of a different character, 
and much more successful than any I had ever had be- 
fore, was upon the whole incomplete and disappointing, 
and Julia King was soon on her way west once more, 
while I was proceeding on my way eastward to home and 
Iowa. 

My uncle had returned from Salt Lake City, where he 
had remained while I had gone on westward over the 
Oregon Trail, and seeing me and Miss King at Fort 
Laramie, he was of course considerably interested, and 
was greatly surprised and utterly mystified by my subse- 
quent conduct. He had not heard of the massacre until 

160 



I told him about it, and immediately after telling him, 
to see me allow Miss King to proceed on to the Mormon 
country while I turned my steps eastward once more, 
was something that he could not understand. But he 
very considerably refrained from expressing himself to 
any extent, and allowed me to do as I thought best. 

Of course I do not mean to convey the idea that Julia 
King went on to the Mormon country alone and un- 
guarded, for she had come west with the army that had 
been sent against the Mormons, and had come in com- 
pany with two of her brothers and her father. Her 
father was one of the recently appointed federal judges 
for the Territory of Utah, who went west at the time, 
under the protection of the troops. Her two brothers 
were soldiers in the army, after having made a special 
effort to get in that particular part of the service in 
order to be under the command of their greatly admired 
General Johnston. As I have said General Johnston was 
a dashing soldier and a brilliant man, and afterwards 
became one of the famous generals of the Civil War. 
The full scope of his genius however was not permitted 
to flower, as he was killed in the early part of the war, 
but critics generally believe that he was one of the ablest 
generals that the war produced. 

At any rate, the two brothers of Julia King admired 
him greatly and always sought to emulate him, and had 
been successful in their attempt to get under his com- 
mand in the expedition to Utah. However their high 
hopes in regard to the service that they might take part 
in in the West, were undoubtedly doomed to disappoint- 
ment, as the army was forced to endure incredible hard- 
ships while in the Mormon country on account of the 

161 



Mormons doing everything in their power to harass and 
impede its progress and to prevent it from acquiring 
forage and provisions, and to starve it out if possible. 

As I have said, however, there was no war with the 
Mormons, the differences between them and the Govern- 
ment being settled peaceably, and the army, under 
General Johnston, proceeded to Camp Floyd, and re- 
mained there until the outbreak of the Civil War. 

While at Fort Laramie, however, Julia King looked 
upon the expedition through glasses of most rosy hue, 
and feared not at all the outcome of her sojourn in Utah. 
She intended to live with her father and go from place 
to place with him as he held court in different places 
in the territory. In view of the fact that they had come 
west with the army, and in view of the fact that the 
army had for its specific purpose the vanquishing of the 
Mormons, she had no fear. In vain I tried to dissuade 
her from her purpose, and in vain I attempted to get her 
to return eastward and forsake her idea of living in the 
Mormon country. I told her of the massacre which I 
had just escaped, and told her of the barren nature of 
the country that she and the army would have to pro- 
ceed through and of the very apparent fact that the army 
would suffer incredible hardships from cold and starva- 
tion. But all of my entreaties and advice fell upon deaf 
ears. She regarded the troops as invincible, and amply 
sufficient to protect her and her father, and she really 
took delight in the expedition. I then told her of 
the presence of Harry Lee in the Mormon country, and 
of the part that he had taken in the massacre. How he 
knew that she was there I did not know, and because of 
the independent attitude that I had assumed, I did not 

162 



ask her. This caused her to become mildly interested, 
though out of curiosity more than anything else, but did 
not to any extent dissuade her from her original pur- 
pose. I became very much disgusted and somewhat en- 
raged, and though as I have said, I was on an entirely 
different plane in regard to my relations with Miss King 
at that time than I had ever been before, I nevertheless 
set out eastward and she continued on her journey in 
exactly the opposite direction. 

My Uncle was mystified and perplexed, and I think 
somewhat disgusted. I did not breathe to him the fact 
of the presence of Harry Lee in the Mormon country, for 
I knew that if I did, and if in the face of the fact I con- 
tinued on toward Iowa, that he would consider me an 
arrant coward, and a fool into the bargain, and I also 
knew that he himself would have turned upon his foot- 
steps and would have returned at once to the Mormon 
country. 

But as it is notorious that the ways of lovers are 
sometimes considered to be dependent upon Fate, and 
predestined, it is also notorious that their conduct is 
generally a conduct without rule or reason, and to ordi- 
nary mortals is wholly inexplicable, and such was the 
case with myself and Julia King. Of course pride, and 
a certain amount of jealousy entered into the matter, 
and a show of independence on my part, that I con- 
sidered would have its effect later on, especially was this 
true in view of the fact that Vivian Butler was in the 
party that was proceeding eastward in our emigrant 
train as we returned toward the prairies of Iowa. 

Another character of whom I have not yet spoken 
whom we encountered at Fort Laramie was a rather 

163 



notable gentleman by the name of Sir Robert Beverly. 
He was an Englishman and had come west to enjoy the 
thrill of hunting big game upon the North American Con- 
tinent. He had hunted in Africa and had been espe- 
cially desirious of hunting buffalo upon the great 
western plains. He appeared to be rich and had an 
elaborate outfit for crossing the plains, in the way of 
wagons and teams and guns and ammunition, and im- 
pressed every one with a certain amount of dignity and 
pomp and ceremony. I also discovered at once that he 
was greatly impressed with Miss King. On more than 
one occasion before we left the Fort, I saw him talking 
to her and saw her responding with great vivacity and 
animation. Of course I knew that her youth and beauty 
would appeal very strongly to one of his years and his 
wealth and his standing. And this of course did not to 
any extent tend to promote my peace of mind, but I 
nevertheless continued steadfast in my purpose to re- 
turn to Iowa. I supposed of course that Sir Robert 
would go on to Salt Lake City and that he would make 
it a point to never be far from Julia King, but to my sur- 
prise he did not do so, and for some reason returned 
eastward in the same caravan with which we were 
traveling. He also very considerately placed at the dis- 
posal of Miss Butler, one of his wagons to be under her 
control and direction alone during the entire journey, 
and in a very short time after arriving at Fort Laramie 
from the west, we were proceeding on our eastern 
journey, and Julia King was proceeding westward. 



164 



CHAPTER XIV. 

QUR journey homeward was uneventful compared to 
our journey over the same trail when going west. 
But we saw the buffalo and the antelope as before 
and as we proceeded farther and farther eastward we 
saw the geese coming down from the far north. The 
Platte was ever famous for its geese and we saw them 
when nothing had disturbed their freedom and when 
nothing had reduced their numbers. It was October. 
The flight had not yet really begun but we saw geese 
over the wide, wild plains as I had never seen geese be- 
fore. A sudden cold snap with a flurry of snow made 
us shiver over our fires and wrap our robes and blankets 
about us in a great effort to keep warm. The cold 
weather was soon over and October's balmy sun shone 
kindly on us again, but the sudden squall had brought 
down long lines of V-shaped flocks of geese from the 
plains and prairies of Canada. I hunted them as I had 
done in western Iowa on the outward journey in the 
spring. I brought a grand bird into camp every now 
and then to vary the monotony of the diet of buffalo and 
antelope meat. 

The nights were getting quite uncomfortable and we 
were compelled to use all our robes and blankets in our 
efforts to keep warm. I began to long for the snug log 
house on the Raccoon river at Adel and its blazing fire- 
place, its abundant provisions of vegetables and grains 

165 



and its quarters of beef and hams hung from the rafters 
of the nearby smoke house. When the chill of the 
prairie penetrated to the bone at night I thought of the 
comfortable beds in that most comfortable house and 
wished heartily that I could be there. The long journey 
over the interminable plains had begun to pall on my 
senses and I really longed for the journey to end. The 
October foliage along the Iowa streams would be a most 
welcome sight. The shrub oaks, the hazel bushes, the 
wild apple trees would be a delightful change after the 
weeks and months of buffalo grass, sage brush and sand. 
I longed to get back to Iowa, though my heart was in the 
wild mountain regions of the far west where deserts 
shone alternately white and dark under the shadow- 
flecked moon and where unexplored mountain ranges 
extended mile after mile in utter desolation. My heart 
was there, for Julia King was there and where she might 
be there my heart would be always. 

We had reached Fort Kearney and I was sitting by 
our campfire with a buffalo robe drawn up over my back 
to protect myself from the chilly wind. I was dreaming 
of Iowa, of home and of Julia King. I had visions of 
red and yellow Bitter Sweet, of flaming Sumac, and 
gorgeous trees. I could see in my mind's eye the yellow 
leaves of autumn floating in matted profusion on the 
sluggish streams. I saw flocks of robins congregating 
along the banks of the rivers and blackbird like clouds 
floating by or filling the air with their concerts. I saw 
the ducks streaming overhead, felt the touch of the north 
breeze of early fall as it came down from the north 
suggesting miles and miles of pine and spruce trees; saw 
and felt all the things that make fall so wonderful in 

166 



Iowa. In short I fell that I was nearing home. What a 
wonderful home that will be I thought to myself if only — 
and then the vision vanished as I thought of Julia King 
not in Iowa not in the land of abundance and pleasant 
surroundings, not in Iowa but in a far-off desert sur- 
rounded by desolate wastes and by treacherous men. I 
have said that our journey homeward was uneventful, 
but in one sense it was quite eventful. Something hap- 
pened while on this journey that in some ways was more 
interesting than any experience I ever had upon the 
plains or in the mountains. It occurred while we were 
camped near Fort Kearney. Night had settled down and 
we were just preparing for sleep, when suddenly out of 
the darkness there sounded the cry of the whippoorwill. 
Something in the note at once attracted my attention. It 
was a signal which the chief had used when we were in 
Iowa to apprise me of his whereabouts. I raised my 
head and threw back the robe when the chief himself 
stood before me. He had promised my uncle that he 
would meet us at Kearney and he had kept his word. 

The three of us were sitting by our fire relating our 
experiences since we had last seen the chief. Sir Robert, 
the Englishman, had partially overcome his surprise at 
seeing a full-blooded Pawnee walk into our camp and 
receive the warmest greetings from us and then sit down 
with us by the fire and converse like an old friend. 

We were conversing thus when the chief suddenly 
stopped and sat rigid in a listening attitude. Soon we 
could hear something or someone approaching our camp- 
fire. Sir Robert sat apparently unmoved, expecting no 
doubt another Indian, who would be received in the 
same manner in which we had received the chief. 

167 



Frank Perkins, however, and myself were quite un- 
prepared for what we saw. Two men of rather youth- 
ful appearance staggered, rather than walked up to our 
campfire. One had a gun but aside from that they ap- 
peared to have no weapons. They were ragged, un- 
shaven, unkempt and of grizzled, bedraggled appear- 
ance. They seemed in the last stages of exhaustion and 
muttering rather incoherently and apparently to them- 
selves they collapsed, rather than sat down, upon the 
ground before our campfire. 

After an involuntary ejaculation or grunt from the 
chief we all sat speechless for a moment. Sir Robert 
evidently had begun to resign himself to whatever might 
appear at this particular camp. 

The visitors responded only in the most idefinite way 
to inquiries which we put to them. In a moment they 
both stretched themselves on the ground by the fire and 
went almost instantly to sleep. Their sleep seemed 
almost a sleep of death so utterly oblivious were they 
to the things about them. We were at a loss to under- 
stand these two strange characters when the chief in- 
formed my uncle that he had seen them before. They 
came to Ft. Kearney from the west, he said, in the last 
stages of exhaustion. They had come not only across 
the plains but also across the mountains and even the 
shore of the great ocean beyond the mountains had not 
been their starting point but they had come from the 
ocean's other side, from a far, far country beyond the 
sea. This they had told in an incoherent way at Ft. 
Kearney and the Indians about the fort had heard the 
story and repeated it among themselves and had specu- 
lated upon its truth or falseness. They had come from 

168 



a great land, said the chief, of great cities, and many, 
many people, so many that the leaves of the trees were 
scarcely greater in number. And the land had been 
ruled over by a great chief and the great chief was cruel 
and dealt harshly with his people. They had been made 
prisoners and were bound so they could not run away 
and had been taken away from their homes and from 
their women and children and had been taken a great 
distance to a land where there were no people and 
where there was hardly anything to eat and almost 
nothing to wear. They were guarded by soldiers with 
guns and were made to work at digging great holes in 
the ground and they could not get away and they had 
no warm places to sleep and they could never see their 
friends and they would have died of starvation and cold 
and exhaustion if they had stayed there any longer. 
But at last they got away and escaped from their guards 
and walked and walked as far as the buffalo goes in the 
spring and fall. And cold and weak and starved they 
came to the shore of the great sea one side of which 
washes the sands of the land beyond the mountains. 
And they got on a great canoe with wings that came 
sailing for days and days across the great sea until at 
last it landed on the shore beyond the mountains. And 
then they set out on foot once more and started to cross 
the mountains and after many days of freezing and 
starving they got across and came out upon the plains 
and kept on across the plains until they came to where 
they then were. And all this they did to get away from 
their great chief who ruled so cruelly and harshly. 

Frank Perkins and I sat staring at each other as the 



169 



chief concluded the narrative that the Indians had passed 
from mouth to mouth about Ft. Kearney. 

We repeated it to Sir Robert and he at once pro- 
nounced our two visitors to be escaped convicts from 
Siberia. 

And now I suppose at this point in my story I should 
begin to say something about the things that I set out to 
discuss in the beginning. So far, of course you will ob- 
serve that I have said nothing about Roosevelt, and prac- 
tically nothing about Americanism, and very little if 
anything about present day American affairs. But, how- 
ever, I did say in the beginning of my story that the ob- 
servations that I should make upon American affairs 
would be based upon my own individual experiences 
and my own history during a long lifetime. I suppose 
everyone's views are colored by his prejudices, and by 
his own experiences. I suppose that it would be im- 
possible for an individual to remove himself entirely 
from his own particular point of view, and I suppose it 
would be impossible for him to arrive at conclusions that 
were not based upon his own individual experiences. 
My experiences, from which I shall draw my conclu- 
sions in this story, are substantially those that I have 
already related. Of course I have not related them all, 
and I have not yet finished my story, but from what I 
have already said, you can undoubtedly get the drift of 
my train of thought and can understand to a certain ex- 
tent at least, why I have arrived at the conclusions which 
I have arrived at. If I am prejudiced in my views and 
conclusions, I want it known why I am so prejudiced, 
and if I am wrong, I at least want it known by what 
route I have arrived at those conclusions. Of course 

170 



deep down in my being I love America and American in- 
stitutions, and everything for which America has stood 
during all of her history down to the present time. It 
would scarcely be possible for it to be otherwise. After 
roaming all over the American Continent in all its 
primeval grandeur for the length of time that I did, it 
would scarcely be possible for me not to be deeply loyal 
to America and to American institutions. For, so far 
as the western half of the continent at least is concerned, 
I have seen it grow in my own lifetime and have seen it 
develop from absolute infancy, so far as civilization is 
concerned, and have seen it become the nation that it is 
to-day. I know of all the trials that it has gone through, 
and I know the position that it has occupied from the 
beginning among the nations of the world. I suppose 
also that no one thing ever impressed me in regard to 
the worth of America and in regard to its position in the 
world so much as the experiences that I had with these 
two young men that so unexpectedly came into our little 
camp there near Fort Kearney, on the lonely plains in 
the year 1857. For these two young fellows that came 
into our camp there at that time were, as Sir Robert sug- 
gested after hearing the narrative of the chief, escaped 
convicts from Siberia. They had come across the 
Pacific Ocean from the Chinese coast and had landed on 
our own Pacific shores, and from the coast of Oregon had 
come eastward over the mountains to the place where 
they came into our camp almost in the center of the 
North American Continent. 

A great many memories in my mind cluster around 
the event of their arrival at our campfire. I hardly 
know where to begin my narrative in regard to this par- 

171 



ticular experience. I have said that in some respects it 
was the most interesting of any experience I ever had on 
the plains, and that is true. I had the young men re- 
late their story after they had been with us long enough 
to recuperate and rest sufficiently to do so, and I found 
that they came from the mines of Siberia; that they were 
not Russians at all, but that they were both Englishmen, 
and had both lived in London. The name of one was 
John Randolph, and the other was Donald Moore. John 
Randolph had, however, married a Russian girl and for 
that reason he had left London and had gone to Russia, 
and in that way found his way among the exiles in the 
convict camp of Siberia. He had originally been in 
some kind of business in London, which frequently took 
him to Paris, and there he had met the young Russian 
girl whom he had subsequently married. It seems that 
she was a very talented and accomplished young woman, 
and very attractive in appearance, though having some- 
thing of the melancholy that spoke of repression and 
subjection to wrong that is somewhat characteristic of 
the Slav countenance and general appearance. John 
Randolph was more fond of her than anything else in 
the world, and was ambitious to succeed in life and to 
become worthy of her in every way, but for some rea- 
son his ambitions had not been realized. He had failed 
in business in London, and because somewhat of the 
humiliation, and because also of the reason that he 
wished to start in new fields, he decided to return with 
his wife to her native land and to attempt to start anew 
within the dominion of the Czar. His companion, 
Donald Moore, who was a very close friend of his, de- 
cided to go with him. There, however, instead of re- 

172 



cuperating his fortunes, and instead of becoming more 
self-reliant, his fortunes went from bad to worse and it 
was not long until he found himself within the clutches 
of the government. Having failed in business in London, 
and having failed to get a start in Russia, and being 
somewhat of a morose and melancholy disposition, he 
had gradually and quite naturally drifted into the ranks 
of those who are opposed to the existing order. Little 
by little he allowed himself to be influenced by those 
whose counsel could not fail to bring disaster upon him. 
In fact from the bitterness in his heart at his failure to 
achieve the things in life that he wished to achieve, he 
gradually drifted into the ranks of the Russian nihilists. 
This of course was fatal to any of the ambitions that he 
had had. Being somewhat indiscreet, he had allowed 
himself to make statements that had attracted the atten- 
tion of the authorities, and he soon found himself in 
chains and under guard and crossing the snow-clad 
wastes of Siberia to the mines more than four thousand 
miles east of St. Petersburg. His friend, Donald Moore, 
true to him to the last, had tried to save him, and went 
to such a length that he himself was apprehended and 
was also thrown in chains and in company with his 
friend, was taken as a convict to the mines of Kara. 

Their coming into our camp at Kearney of course was 
tremendously interesting to me after hearing a recital of 
their story. It was tremendously interesting to me also, 
for the reason that I saw at a glance as any one could 
see, that the health of John Randolph was not good, and 
that he was in the last stages of exhaustion, and that he 
was one of the creatures or persons of whom I have al- 
ready spoken which are clasified among the weak and 

173 



the unfit to survive in the struggle for existence in this 
world. Also I found that his objection to the existing 
order extended not ony to existing temporal govern- 
ments and to existing organizations formed by men, but 
that it had even gone so far as to declare itself against 
the Creator of the World. This of course was not un- 
usual when one stops to consider that he had become a 
nihilist. It is of course fundamental among many of the 
nihilists that they are thus opposed not only to the exist- 
ing order established by humankind, but that they also 
are opposed to the existing order as established by the 
Creator of the world, or if not so opposed, that they at 
least deny that there is any such Creator or that any 
such order has ever been established. 

I found that my young friend, as I shall choose to call 
him, had become a disciple of Bakunin, that most 
radical of all nihilists, and to a certain extent, the founder 
of the cult. Perhaps no such tirades against govern- 
ments both temporal and spiritual have ever been 
uttered by humankind as those uttered by Michael 
Bakunin. In Geneva in 1868, he expressed himself as 
follows : 

"Brethren, I come to announce to you a new gospel 
which must penetrate unto the very ends of the world. 
This gospel admits of no half-measures and hesitations. 
The old world must be destroyed and replaced by a new 
one. The lie must be stamped out and give way to truth. 
It is our mission to destroy the lie; and to effect this we 
must begin at the very commencement. Now the begin- 
ning of all those lies which have ground down this poor 
world in slavery is God. For many hundred years mon- 
archs and priests have inoculated the hearts and minds 

174 



of mankind with this notion of a God ruling over the 
world. They have also invented for the people the no- 
tion of another world, in which their God is to punish 
with eternal torture those who have refused to obey 
their degrading laws here on earth. This God is nothing 
but the personification of absolute tyranny, and has been 
invented with a view of either frightening or alluring 
nine-tenths of the human race into submission to the re- 
maining tenth. If there were really a God, surely he 
would use that lightning which he holds in his hand to 
destroy those thrones to the steps of which mankind is 
chained. He would, assuredly, use it to overthrow those 
altars where the truth is hidden by clouds of lying in- 
cense. Tear out of your hearts the belief in the existence 
of God; for as long as an atom of that silly superstition 
remains in your minds, you will never know what free- 
dom is. When you have got rid of the belief in this 
priest-begotten God, and when, moreover, you are con- 
vinced that your existence and that of the surrounding 
world are due to the conglomeration of atoms, in accord- 
ance with the laws of gravity and attraction, then, and 
then only, you will have accomplished the first step to- 
ward liberty, and you will experience less difficulty in 
ridding your minds of that second lie which tyranny has 
invented. The first lie is God. The second lie is right. 
Might invented the fiction of right, in order to insure and 
strengthen her reign — that right which she herself does 
not heed, and which only serves as a barrier against any 
attacks which may be made by the trembling and stupid 
masses of mankind. Might, my friends, forms the sole 
groundwork of society. Might makes and unmakes laws, 
and that might should be in the hands of the majority. 

175 



It should be in the possession of those nine-tenths of the 
human race whose immense power has been rendered 
subservient to the remaining tenth by means of that ly- 
ing fiction of right before which you are accustomed to 
bow your heads and to drop your arms. Once pene- 
trated with a clear conviction of your own might, you 
will be able to destroy this mere notion of right. And 
when you have freed your mind from the fear of a God, 
and from that childish respect for the fiction of right, 
then all the remaining chains which bind you, and which 
are called science, civilization, property, marriage, 
morality, and justice, will snap asunder like threads. 
Let your own happiness be your only law. But in order 
to get this law recognized, and to bring about the proper 
relations which should exist between the majority and 
minority of mankind, you must destroy everything which 
exists in the shape of state or social organization. So 
educate yourselves and your children that, when the 
great moment for constituting the new world arrives, 
your eyes may not be blinded by the falsehoods of the 
tyrants of throne and altar. Our first work must be de- 
struction and annihilation of everything as it now exists. 
You must accustom yourselves to destroy everything, the 
good with the bad; for if but an atom of this old world 
remains the new will never be created. According to 
the priests' fables, in days of old a deluge destroyed all 
mankind; but their God specially saved Noah in order 
that the seeds of tyranny and falsehood might be per- 
petuated in the new world. When you once begin your 
work of destruction, and when the floods of enslaved 
masses of the people rise and engulf temples and 
palaces, then take heed that no ark be allowed to rescue 

176 



any atom of this old world, which we consecrate to de- 
struction." 

Some such doctrines had permeated the mind and 
heart of John Randolph, and some such attitude toward 
the world existed in his mind when he came into our 
little camp on the prairies of Nebraska. 

I have said that up to this time I have said very little 
about Roosevelt and very little about America and 
American institutions, and at this point in my story I 
have said that it would seem fitting and proper that I be- 
gin to state why it is 1 have arrived at certain conclusions 
in regard to American affairs. This meeting of these 
young men, and particularly the one of whom I have 
spoken in detail, in that early period in the history of 
the western part of our continent, impressed upon me as 
it has never been impressed before, or since, the glory 
and the might and the real position of America among 
the nations of the earth. 

I have said, in speaking of my relations with Julia 
King, that I have sometimes wondered if things were not 
ordered by an unseen hand to take place according to a 
preconceived plan, and to be worked out according to 
that plan in their appointed time. I have also often 
thought that this might be true when I considered the 
things of America and what America stands for. It has 
always seemed rather strange to me and at least some- 
thing worthy of notice, that the great American continent 
lay idle here in the western seas for so many long cen- 
turies while civilized man was attempting to reach his 
goal upon the continents of Europe and Asia. It always 
has seemed rather strange to me, and something worthy 
of attention, that in due time the best continent upon the 

17? 



face of the earth was discovered and revealed to human 
beings who had begun to overflow, as it were, from the 
shores of the continents of the Ancient East. It always 
has seemed very strange to me that the continent through 
all that time was here, and that it remained here idle until 
the time for its utilization should come. It has always 
seemed rather strange to me that the face of man has 
ever been turned westward toward the setting sun. It 
has always seemed somewhat strange to me that as it has 
been expressed in poetic phrase: 

"Westward the star of empire takes its way." 

I say "strange". Perhaps that is not the proper word 
to use, for nothing could be more natural than that the 
vigorous and hearty members of any race or tribe should 
push out and away from the old and worn out domains 
in order to reach new and better fields. But the fact re- 
mains that the better fields were here, and were pro- 
vided for the utilization of mankind when the proper 
time should come. Civilization was born in the East 
and came toward the West. It did not originate in the 
West, and it did not go toward the East, but in very truth, 
Westward the star of empire has taken its way, and west- 
ward upon the American continent has culminated all 
the best ideals in the civilization of humankind. 

There upon the prairies of Nebraska, in 1857, it 
seemed to me was the very beginning of this westward 
movement so far as its reaching American shores is con- 
cerned. Of course I do not mean to say that that is true, 
because of course civilization had long before appeared 
upon the Atlantic seaboard, but the staggering into our 
little camp upon those lonely plains of these worn and 

178 



exhausted and hunted men, coming as they did from the 
convict camps of the East, to the freedom and splendor 
of the West, impressed me as nothing else in all the 
world could have done, with the freedom and indepen- 
dence of America, and with the hope that it held out to 
humankind. As these young men told their story, I 
could not help contrasting the West and the East. I 
could not help thinking of and picturing in my mind, the 
horrors and the wretched poverty and the slavery and 
the degradation of the East, with the happiness and the 
abounding vigor and sweet independence and the dignity 
of the West. 

I say that I love America. It seems to have been 
born in my very soul. To be other than patriotic while 
living in America under the American flag would be an 
impossible thing for me, for I know what the American 
flag means and I know what it has done for the world. 
I have been through the great Civil War, and I have 
grown up with the West and I have seen what a haven 
of refuge it has been for the oppressed and down-trod- 
den peoples of the earth, and I have seen how it has ever 
stood for and has established among the races of man, 
principles of liberty and freedom as an ideal to be at- 
tained by all mankind, and anything that hints of dis- 
loyalty to America is of course utterly repugnant and ab- 
horrent to me. 

I said that I would make some observations upon 
American affairs and I said that I would speak of Roose- 
velt and Americanism, and the things that I shall say 
will be, as I have said, the outgrowth of my own expe- 
riences and though perhaps the result of prejudices, will 
be based upon prejudices that have grown from such ex- 

179 



periences as I have related. But how could those prej- 
udices be other than they are? 

I asked John Randolph to tell us more of his story. I 
asked him to tell us of the convict camps in Siberia and 
I also requested him to tell us how he and his companion 
had made their escape from them. 



180 



CHAPTER XV. 

XT was this way," said John. "It was in the spring 
and it wasn't very hard to escape in the spring. 
The guards were glad enough to have us come up 
missing for when we were gone, what little clothing was 
alotted to us by the Russian government was appro- 
priated by the guards and sold to traders coming over 
the Mongolian frontier. 

"We fled to the woods like animals or birds let out of 
a cage. God's sunshine never seemed so sweet. Through- 
out the long snowbound winter we had spent the nights 
in hell. I can think of no other word that would fitly 
describe our quarters. I always hated civilzation and 
its institutions. The Kara prisons in Siberia seemed to 
typify civilization at its worst. Nowhere in savagery 
was there ever such hideous torture. We were crowded 
in our log prisons like sheep in a pen. Nowhere in the 
building was there any provision for ventilation. Win- 
dows were immovable and not a breath of air ever 
reached us from the outside during the night. We were 
without bed clothes of any kind. Only our overcoats 
covered us as we tried to sleep or furnished us with a 
thin protection from the benches upon which we spent 
the night. Bed bugs and other vermin fairly swarmed. 
There were little or no toilet accommodations. The 
stench arising on the foul air was overpowering. Scurvy 
and typhoid fever decimated our ranks, sick men often 

181 



lying in our midst for days before being removed to the 
prison hospital. 

"We were compelled to work from nine to thirteen 
hours a day (according to the season of the year) in the 
mines and then were forced to spend the night in the 
way I have described. 

"When spring came I was wild. No beast was ever 
wilder. The soft airs came over the ancient steppes and 
awakened a longing in my soul that cried out to the very 
stars. A carpet of flowers spread their delicate corollas 
over the green grass and touched my soul with their 
sweet gentleness. The Cossacks were lax in their watch- 
fulness and offered little resistence to our escape. Know- 
ing that representatives of Jewish traders would soon be 
along to buy the rations and clothes that would have 
been ours had we been there to claim them they winked 
at our departure. The birds were calling in the trees, 
nature was waking under the influence of warmth and 
light. The trackless woods and the boundless plains 
were cleansed and purified by the open air. I saved 
some food from my daily rations, managed to get posses- 
sion of a kettle and an axe and fled to the forest. My 
friend here, Donald Moore, and another man went with 
me. For days and even weeks we gave ourselves up to 
the luxury of the freedom and outdoor air. Hour after 
hour in the warm sunlight we lay in the grass on the 
side of a small hill or creek bank and absorbed the rays 
of the glorious sun. It seemed that we could live thus 
forever but after a few weeks of this delight we began to 
contemplate the possibility of capture and of being re- 
turned for the winter to the mines. Never was there a 
more hideous dream than the thought of being returned 

182 



to Kara. We hit upon a bold plan. Most of the con- 
victs who had spend the summer in the woods set out 
westward in an attempt to reach Lake Baikal and thus 
return to their country and their homes. But Donald 
Moore and I were not Russians. We were not Slavs, not 
of the races of the East, but we were of Anglo-Saxon 
descent and we were of the nations of the West. And 
we decided that we were going west; that we would set 
out eastward and keep going until we reached the other 
side of the earth to the end that we might become 
citizens of the great nation on the continent of North 
America. We decided to go to the United States or die 
in the attempt. Rather far would we leave our bones in 
the strange regions of Mongolia or upon the wide, 
desolate plains of Siberia, than to remain alive longer in 
torment. We recalled the sacred inscriptions on the in- 
side walls of our prison, 'Come unto me, all ye that labor 
and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest,' and 'Him 
that cometh unto me I will in no wise cast out.' The 
government had these scriptural quotations placed on 
the walls above our heads for no other purpose it 
seemed to me than to mock us. The groans of the sick 
and dying had fallen upon my ears as I looked upon 
these sayings of the Master. The odors of human filth 
assailed my nostrils, the acme of human suffering tor- 
tured my soul as these words stared at me from the 
wall. There is no hope, I said to myself. Life is a 
dread experience filled to overflowing with human woe. 
If death could only come, was my prayer." 

And then I talked with John Randolph's companion 
Donald Moore, in regard to their experiences in Siberia 
and their journey to America. 

183 



"We were in the Siberian mines two years" he said 
"when we managed to escape and made our way after in- 
credible hardships to the Chinese coast and there con- 
trived to get aboard a vessel bound for America. 

"Before we escaped, however, another consignment 
of prisoners came to the mines and among them was a 
peasant from the community where John Randolph and 
I had lived when we were arrested. He brought the 
news that the wife who had been left behind had also 
been seized (for trying to assist her husband to escape) 
and had been cast into a dungeon. There she had died 
and her little child, a boy of three, had probably died also 
for there was no one to care for him after his mother's 
death. 

"The news brought by the peasant completely broke 
and crushed John's spirit. He came and went as one 
in a dream. He has told me of the suffering and men- 
tal anguish he endured and how he feared that he was 
going insane. His nerves gave way under the strain and 
he became a physical wreck. 

"How we got to the Chinese coast is a marvel, but we 
finally got there and not long after that we were tossing 
on the great, lonely ocean. The sea voyage made us 
deathly sick and we were glad as it was possible for us 
to be under the circumstances when we sighted land. 

"John was bound to never stop until he reached the 
interior of the continent. For some reason he had set 
his head on coming here and accordingly after a month 
on the coast we set out overland from Portland, Oregon, 
to cross the western half of the American continent. We 
had obtained rifles and ammunition and hunting knives 
before starting on our journey. Luckily an told trapper 

184 



was just setting out in the same direction. He said he 
was going to Fort Laramie. We finally obtained his re- 
luctant consent to let us accompany him. Had we not 
succeeded in doing this our bones would undoubtedly 
be in the western deserts at this time. We were at- 
tacked by Indians several times but because of the old 
trapper's skill and diplomacy we managed to get through, 
though as I think of it now it seems impossible." 

And then he told me of their hopes and of how 
America had surpassed even their fondest dreams. 

"I shall never forget the scenes we passed through," 
said Donald Moore, with kindling eyes. 

"Such tremendous mountain chains, such wealth of 
forest, such rivers and streams I had never seen before. 
Sometimes as we camped among the rocks and fallen 
trees by a brawling mountain stream I thought of the 
quiet seclusion of our camp and contrasted it with the 
teeming millions of Europe and the east. The lofty 
peaks and immense summits snow-clad and with wooded 
slopes were restful to the mind and soul and the air 
wafted along the mountain sides seemed the very breath 
of liberty. It was a new and delightful sensation. Even 
John felt the uplifting influence. Sometimes I saw him 
sitting with upturned face gazing at the mountain tops. 
I saw that even his crushed and battered soul responded 
to this display of Nature's grandeur. For the time he 
forgot his aching heart and drank in the quiet sublimity 
of the scenery. A kind of dazed wondering expression 
was upon his features as though he could not believe his 
senses. Adjusting ourselves to the new freedom as we 
contemplated the kings and institutions and chains of 
the east was a strange, though pleasing experience. 

I815 



"America is a grand land" continued Donald Moore. 
"I shall never leave it, I shall never go back." 

"It had a soothing effect upon John" he continued. 
"Nature undisturbed by man has partially called him 
back to his original self. 

"I remember one night we spent in a deserted cabin 
which we found in the mountains. A tremendous rain 
storm with cold, driving wind set in about dark. We 
piled the wood upon the fire, made our bed of evergreen 
boughs and as we listened to the storm roaring through 
the trees and beating on the roof we were almost happy. 
In fact I was happy and poor John so far forgot himself 
as to listen in silent content to the driving rain as he 
watched the sparks going up the chimney. 

"And right there" continued Donald Moore, "a new 
thought came into my mind. I thought how much 
happier I would be to live right there and enjoy to my 
heart's content the simple joys that I was then enjoying 
than to be king of England or of all the Russias." 

And then, as I became better acquainted with our two 
young friends, I discussed with them also things of much 
the same nature as the things that I have related to you 
in the beginning of my story. I had come west from New 
York to Iowa, and from Iowa to the western plains and 
mountains, after some such experiences as John Ran- 
dolph had related. Of course I had not been a nihilist, 
and of course I had not been exiled, though in one sense 
I had been as I had been imprisoned in the penitentiary. 
Of course also, my health was not good and of course 
also to put it mildly, I had "soured" upon the world. 

Shakespeare says that one touch of Nature makes the 
whole world kin, and after these experiences, John Ran- 



dolph and I found in ourselves a great deal in com- 
mon. 

I have told you, of the change that had come over me 
after coming west. I have said that it was due to the 
great freedom and the great inspiration of the outdoor 
world, untouched by the hand of civilization, and also 
that it was due to the change of mind of which I have 
spoken. Having gone through the thing that I had gone 
through, and having come out victorious as I thought 
that I had, I felt that it would be not only my duty, but 
the greatest pleasure in the world to assist the miserable 
creature who had come into our camp to come out vic- 
torious if possible in the same way. And all of the 
powers possessed by me, and all of the influences which 
I was capable of exerting, were brought to bear upon 
the unfortunate wayfarer. 

I have said that I had an opportunity to exhibit or to 
a certain extent to prove to Miss Butler the truth of the 
statements that I had made to her about the efficacy of 
a change of mind. She of course had regarded my 
statements lightly and as I have said, whatever change 
for the better in my own make-up that there had been, 
she attributed merely to the outdoor life and to that 
alone. I was confident that while a great deal of the 
change was due to that, that some of the change was also 
due to the other things of which I have spoken, and 
these things I attempted to explain as best I could to the 
wayfarer of whom I have spoken. I called Miss Butler's 
attention, which of course it was needless to do, to his 
woe-begone and miserable appearance when he first 
came into our camp, and a few days later I called her 
attention to the change that had come over him. I had 

187 



been somewhat shocked by his atheism and his nihilistic 
views and philosophy, but Miss Butler had been even 
more so, due particularly to an occasion one Sunday 
morning while we were proceeding eastward along the 
trail, when it was suggested that religious services be 
conducted in the camp. She had quietly approached 
John Randolph on the subject and had desired to get his 
approval of the proposed services. He had for some 
time remained sullen and silent and morose, and she 
had finally asked him if he did not believe in such things, 
and if he did not believe in God and the Bible. At that 
John Randolph jumped to his feet and launched into a 
wild tirade against the Creator of the world. 

"The Creator is a monster, a beast, a brute," he said. 
"He has persecuted me for half a dozen years. He has 
taken advantage of my faith in him to humiliate and 
ruin my life. He has led me on and on with insincerity 
and fraud and has brought me to the brink of death. I 
would kill him if he were a man. I have gone from 
England to Russia, from Russia to the mines of Siberia, 
from those mines to the Chinese coast and from there 
across the Pacific ocean. And I have come across tre- 
mendous mountain chains, through terrible deserts and 
have suffered starvation, cold, heat, drouth and drenching 
rain and attacks of wild beasts, but I would go a thou- 
sand times as far, and I would endure a thousand times 
as much if God could but become a mortal man and if I 
could but get a chance to get my hand upon his throat or 
to sink my knife into his heart. 

"But I would not kill him at once. I would torture 
him," said John Randolph, with his eyes shining like 



18S 



those of a wolf in the darkness. "I would torture him 
as he has tortured me. I would take from him the 
things he holds most dear and would destroy them be- 
fore his eyes. I would haunt him with hideous dreams. 
I would cause his mind to wander, to lose its balance. 
I would make him a slave serving brutal masters, I 
would cause him to be an outcast like a mad wolf 
persecuted by his fellows. I would destroy his health. 
I would make him sick. I would deceive him. I would 
cause him to believe one thing and act upon a certain 
belief when the exact opposite would be true. I would 
confuse and befog his brain. I would make him see 
dimly. I would cause his tongue to be less responsive 
to his will and would make his words like the mutter- 
ings of a lunatic. Then I would kill him. I would kill 
him with my knife. I would taste his heart's blood. I 
would have my revenge. I would cast his soul into hell, 
I would cause him torment until the end of eternity. I 
would ruin, ruin his soul. 

"I would have his neighbors and his enemies come to 
reason and argue with him as they came to reason and 
argue with Job. I would have the unfaithful and untrue 
set over him and cause them to berate him for his short- 
comings and for his lack of faith and for his failure to 
remain true. I would have the sinful and the self- 
righteous come to remind him of his sins and for his 
lack of humility. I would have those who deny God 
smile at his credulity." 

As he concluded his wild blasphemy John Randolph 
threw himself full length upon the ground as though ex- 
hausted and after lying there a moment got up and left 
the company. 

189 



CHAPTER XVI. 

XHAVE said that when I first came to Iowa I felt that 
not only the hand of man was against me, but 
that also even the hand of the Creator was against 
me. Of course if I had had any such feelings, John Ran- 
dolph had them even more so, and they were redoubled 
in their intensity. His experiences seeming to be so 
similar to mine, and even so much more serious, I was 
greatly interested in him and made a great effort to 
bring about the change of which I have spoken. 

I would not attempt at this point to detail or explain 
all of the conversations that I had with John Randolph 
in attempting to bring about his conversion, and all that 
I shall say is that I had with him substantially the same 
sort of discussion that I had had with Joe Burgess in re- 
gard to the weak and the possibility of their becoming 
strong, and that I discussed with him as I had discussed 
with Joe Burgess, the Book of Job and the great change 
which came over Job when he said: "Now mine eye 
seeth Thee". Suffice it to say that it was not long until 
a great change had come over John Randolph. He had 
told me that many times in his bitterness he had shaken 
his fist at the vault of Heaven and had inwardly cursed 
the stars and the glittering orbs of the black sky of the 
night because of his hatred of and his indignation at the 
aparent injustice of the existing order. But after the 
conversations thai I had had with him and after the 

190 



things of which I have spoken had taken place, he told 
me that he could never again be guilty of such bitterness 
and such hate and that he could never again shake 
his fists at the starry orbs of the Heavens. He seemed as 
one transformed. I called Miss Butler's attention to him 
as he strode vigorously with elastic step about our camp- 
fires at night, and as he proceeded along the trail during 
the day. He gazed out over the great plains, looked at 
the herds of game that we occasionally saw, at the 
waterfowl overhead, at the vast expanse of landscape 
and appeared to take a new hold on life and a new in- 
terest in it, and to look at it from an entirely new point 
of view. Miss Butler was indeed impressed, and 
watched the young man closely. In regard to him and 
his transformation, however, she felt much the same as 
she had in regard to me and the transformation that had 
come over me, — that the change was due to the great in- 
spiration of the American continent and the freedom 
that had suddenly come to him and of the health-giving 
food and of the invigorating air that were his while he 
enjoyed his freedom. And of course those things did 
enter to a very great extent, into the change that had 
come over him. To what extent they were responsible 
for the change, and to what extent the things that I have 
said I endeavored to instill into his mind were respon- 
sible for it, it would be hard to determine. Such ques- 
tions are always hard to determine, and in fact I think 
they never have been determined, but they are all sub- 
jects for endless speculation. 

Did any supreme power enter into the affairs of my- 
self and Julia King? Did any supreme power enter into 
the establishment of the American continent in the 

191 



western seas and to the reservation of it for the use of 
humankind in its appointed time? Did any supreme 
power at all, or to any extent, enter into the change that 
came over myself or John Randolph? Nobody knows 
and yet humanity from the dawn of time has gone on 
looking up and hoping and praying and remaining stead- 
fast in the faith and yet also humanity has to fight its 
own battles and has to make its own way. To rely alone 
upon Hope or upon Faith of course would be disastrous. 
But would not relying upon one's self alone also be dis- 
astrous? In other words, is there not a sort of partner- 
ship between mankind and the Supreme Being in which 
partnership the Supreme Being takes a certain part, and 
in which also humankind takes its own part? 

Mr. Roosevelt has written a book entitled: "FEAR 
GOD AND TAKE YOUR OWN PART." And that, I sup- 
pose, is the keynote of my story. "Fear God" means of 
course to have Faith in God, and does not mean to fear 
Him in an abject sense, and "take your own part" means 
exactly what it says. Neither one alone would be suffi- 
cient. No man is sufficient unto himself. No nation is 
sufficient unto itself. Humanity as a whole is not suffi- 
cient unto itself, and yet humanity must rely upon itself 
and must fight its own battles and must take its own 
part. To do otherwise would be fatal, and conducive to 
utter and overwhelming disaster. What part the Al- 
mighty takes in our affairs, if any, we can not say, and 
yet we still have Faith. And what part He takes ap- 
parently it is not for us to determine, or even to attempt 
to find out, for we could not find out even if we tried. 
Our business is to tend to our own business and is to take 
our own part, and work out our own salvation with the 

192 



material that we have at hand, with the material that is 
tangible and concrete and that we can see and feel and 
comprehend. Having done our own part, the Almighty 
will undoubtedly do His. And to attempt to dictate to 
Him or to find out His mysteries, is time wasted. 

No doubt you wonder where I am coming out in re- 
gard to all of these statements about a change of mind. 
Perhaps you think I am going to arrive at the conclusion 
that there is no such thing as matter, or something of 
that sort, but that is not the case. I have said that in 
looking at the landscape along the Platte, while proceed- 
ing westward along the trail, that I seemed to look back 
of and beyond the material world and seemed to see the 
very origin and source of life itself, but you will observe 
that I have nowhere stated, though you may perhaps 
think that I have hinted, that there is no such thing as a 
material world. I believe in both the things spiritual 
and the things material. I believe in those things in the 
same way that I believe that we should fear God and 
take our own part; that is, that there is a reciprocal 
relation or perhaps something in the nature of a partner- 
ship relation with duties to be performed on both sides 
and that neither one is sufficient unto itself. The mate- 
rial world or a belief in the material world alone would 
not suffice, and on the other hand, to ignore it and to be- 
lieve only in a spiritual or mental world, also would not 
suffice. Both to my mind are very, very real, and both 
are necessary to the proper existence of humankind. 

But if that is true, you say, what do you mean by the 
change of mind and by the corresponding transforma- 
tion brought about thereby? And to this I will have to 
answer that I do not know. I can simply say that I have 

193 



gone sufficiently far in these matters to believe that I have 
discovered that there is something that tells of a better 
and higher state for human beings in the far future. I 
do not know what it is or when it will be brought about, 
nor just what the nature of it will be, but I do feel con- 
vinced that there is something that speaks of higher and 
better things, and that humanity is not without hope, and 
that its faith will some day be justified. The mind and 
the power of the mind are undoubtedly wonderful things 
and things that as yet we only imperfectly understand. 
That better things will come in the future, I can scarcely 
doubt, but at present we only have faint flickerings of 
the light as to what these things shall be. 

But it seems clear to me that mankind is tending on 
and up. It seems clear to me that just as the American 
continent has been reserved for use in its appointed 
time, so greater and more wonderful things in the realm 
of the mind and the spirit may be reserved for the utili- 
zation of humankind when the entire world, including 
the American continent, shall become so densely popu- 
lated as that there is no place for the overflow of human- 
kind to go. It seems clear to me that something in the 
future must be revealed for the relief of humankind 
when that condition of affairs comes to pass. It would 
seem indeed, that material things could hardly suffice for 
the support of humankind in the generations of the very 
remote future. Though as I say, I have no disposition 
at this time to say that there is no such thing as a mate- 
rial world. But the threat of population, it seems to me, 
is a very real threat and presents one of the very great 
problems of humankind. How will the earth's millions 
be provided for in the very far future when not only the 

194 



ancient East, but the West as well, becomes a densely 
populated, almost seething mass of humankind? We 
must look out and up beyond the world, it seems, for 
something new. What that new thing is, or those new 
things, it is of course most difficult to tell, but it seems 
that their nature must be essentially mental or essentially 
spiritual. 

So that I feel that the experiences that I have had 
which I have related to you are merely suggestions of 
something which I can not well define, which may come 
to pass thousands of years from now. But of course we 
can not live in the future, and we can not live in the past, 
but we must live in the living present, and must solve the 
problems of the present. We must do our work well 
which we have to do now, in order that we and our de- 
scendants may enjoy the things that they should enjoy 
in the future. 

How can we best make progress individually and as 
nations, is the great question before the world to-day. 
And it seems to me that there is a certain analogy so far 
as this question is concerned, in regard to the affairs of 
individuals and the affairs of nations. It seems to me 
that the affairs of individuals are not so very different 
from the affairs of nations, and the principles applicable 
to the life of an individual are to a very great extent, ap- 
plicable to the life of a nation. To-day we see this ques- 
tion, so far as individuals are concerned, grappled with 
by the Christian Scientists, and so far as nations are con- 
cerned, we see it grappled with by those who are suppor- 
ters of the idea of the League of Nations. This compari- 
son may not be obvious and may not seem justified to 
you, and may not seem just clear, but to a certain extent 

195 



at least, it seems justified for the reason that on the one 
hand the Christian Scientists are doing their utmost to 
overcome disease and bodily ills and physical limita- 
tions, or as they put it, in the belief in all of these things, 
and on the other hand, the supporters of the League of 
Nations idea are trying to overcome and do away with 
war and national ills and national troubles that have 
been for the past few years scourging the entire world 
and both are looking forward to something new: a new 
era and a new day that shall bring in a better state of 
affairs than the world has yet known. And the compari- 
son, it seems to me, is the more obvious and the more 
justified just now for the reason that on the one hand 
there has just passed over the world the greatest 
epidemic of disease ever known in the history of the 
world, and there has also, and practically at the same 
time, just passed over the world the greatest scourge of 
war ever known in the history of the world. These are 
things, that humanity dreads, and which give rise to the 
problems to which practically all mankind is addressing 
itself. 

Thus it is that I have been leading up to these ques- 
tions which I consider the most important questions be- 
fore the world to-day transcending all questions of mere 
business and money-making and striking vitally at the 
very lives of all humankind. And thus it is that I am 
much more interested in these things than in the affairs 
of mere business and money-making, as I consider them 
more vital and more important to all of mankind. 

In the upward struggle of humankind I admire and 
wish to pay my respects to the soldier who fights for 
righteousness, to the martyr who gives his life for a 

196 



cause, to the thinker and the philosopher who brings 
forth new ideas and new things for humankind. It is 
the life stream of humanity marching on toward its goal 
that is absorbingly interesting. But I suppose I am to a 
certain extent digressing from my story and from the 
avowed purpose which I stated that I had in mind at the 
outset. I have not yet really gotten down to the question 
of Americanism and the things in regard to Mr. Roosevelt 
which I intended to say. 

The question before our people to-day, and the ques- 
tion that has been before our people all during the 
period of the great war has been the question of 
Americanism. I said that I wanted to speak of Roose- 
velt and of the things that Roosevelt stood for, and 
of course Rooseveltism and Americanism have always 
been synonymous. The Americanism of Roosevelt has 
also been the Americanism that has been typified by 
the vigor of life and by the great glory of life lived in 
the physical, tangible, outdoor world. The Americanism 
of President Wilson on the other hand, has always been 
the Americanism typified by just exactly the opposite of 
these things. The fact is that it has not been American- 
ism at all, but has been internationalism, and President 
Wilson has been an internationalist first, and an 
American afterwards. He has not represented America 
or the American people during his presidency any more 
or even as much as he has represented the peoples of all 
other nations, and the great question before our people 
and to a certain extent the great question before all the 
people of the world to-day is whether this kind of repre- 
sentation or leadership on his part has been justified, and 
whether the future will show that it has been for the 

197 



best. I speak of Roosevelt on the one hand, and of 
Wilson on the other, rather abruptly in this way for the 
reason that I think they typify to a very great extent, the 
very things of which I have been speaking. I have 
spoken of the physical, material, tangible world, and 
I have also spoken of the mental and the spiritual 
world. Those who follow Mr. Wilson believe that he 
represents the things of the mental and the spiritual 
world, and they believe also that Mr. Roosevelt and those 
who have followed him represent the things of the 
physical, material world alone. I do not mean that the 
followers of Mr. Wilson have considered him a Christian 
Scientist or anything of the kind, but I do mean that 
pacifists, conscientious objectors and even Christian 
Scientists have believed in Wilson rather than in Roose- 
velt. But is it true that Mr. Wilson has represented the 
things of the mind and the spirit or the ideals toward 
which humanity should strive any more or as much as 
has Mr. Roosevelt? You will recall that I have said that 
the basic and fundamental idea of my story was the idea 
expressed in the words: FEAR GOD AND TAKE YOUR 
OWN PART, and I have said that Mr. Roosevelt has 
written a book whose title is in those very words, and I 
now wish to say that I think he has always practiced 
exactly what he has preached, and I wish to show, if 
possible, that fearing God and taking your own part in 
the sense that one tends to his own business and leaves 
the affairs of God to God alone and attempts to work out 
his own salvation with his own hands, is advancing the 
kingdom of Heaven as far as it is possible to be advanced 
in this world. I do not think that because one devotes 
himself heart and soul to the things at hand that it 

198 



necessarily follows that he is unmindful of the spiritual 
world and spiritual things. I have said that the 
Americanism of Roosevelt is the Americanism of the vigor 
of life, and of the great glory of the outdoor world. It 
is also the Americanism which typifies the culmination 
upon the American continent of all the finest and best 
things that have been produced by civilization and by 
many thousands of years of struggle and sacrifice by the 
heroes and the martyrs and saints who have gone before. 
The civilization that we have in America to-day is the 
result of the work of those who in the past have taken 
their own part. It is the result of the heroism and sacri- 
fice of those who like the Greeks and Athenians at Mara- 
thon vanquished the Persian hosts that had come west- 
ward as a menace to the then western world, It is the re- 
sult of the sacrifice that was then made and which en- 
abled Greek institutions of democracy and advanced 
ideas in philosophy and letters and architecture and in 
fact all of the arts to take root in European soil for the 
benefit of all mankind in the future. It is the result of 
those who faced the foe and who were willing to lay 
down their lives to the end that oriental despotism should 
not gain a foothold upon European soil. It is the result 
of the work of those who stood between civilization and 
barbarism. Had the heroic Greeks at that time been 
pacifists; had they rolled their eyes unctuously to Heaven 
and prattled of a healing peace and had they been con- 
scientious objectors to the idea of taking the life of a 
human being, regardless of what the failure to do so 
would have meant to mankind, civilization in America 
would not be what it is to-day. 

Thus it has ever been in all the history of the world; 

199' 



everything worth while has been fought for and has been 
paid for by those who fought the battles not only of 
themselves but also of those who through fear and a 
false idea of morals and duty, remained in the rear and 
out of danger while their comrades laid down their lives 
for the benefit of their contemporaries and for the benefit 
of posterity. It was thus at Marathon, and has been thus 
in many another decisive battle in the history of the 
world. It was true when the hosts of Attila, the Hun, 
swept westward into Europe and attempted to overwhelm 
western civilization with the paganism and barbarism of 
the Orient. Sweeping westward from Asia into Hungary 
and thence westward again into France and toward 
Rome, the pagan hordes of the East threatened again the 
new and vigorous and wholesome life of the West. But 
at Chalons on the Marne, not far from where the great 
battles in the great world war just brought to a close 
were fought, the soldiers of civilization beat back and 
defeated the hosts of barbarism which threatened the 
civilization of the world, and again that civilization was 
saved for posterity. Those soldiers, of course, who 
fought those battles for the benefit of the world, were 
taking their own part, and who shall say that they were 
brutal and barbarous and were seeking blood when they 
laid down their lives for the benefit of the world? Who 
shall say that they failed in their duty to man or God? 
Who shall say that they failed in the proper interpreta- 
tion of the things of the mind or of the things of the 
spirit? Theirs it was to do their duty and their com- 
rades if such there were, who considered it wrong to 
emulate them, because of religious or other scruples, 
were spared the agony of the conflict, but have gone out 

200 



of the world without having contributed to the advance 
of the world, and without having won the high honor 
due those who in the path of duty have made the su- 
preme sacrifice for the benefit of humankind. 

And the same things were true in the battle of Tours 
in later years when the hordes of Arabia, Egypt and 
Persia, and other countries bordering the Mediterranean 
Sea at that time swept into Spain and thence into France 
where they were met by the forces of civilization under 
Charles Martel, and were beaten and turned back again 
toward the Orient. It was the battle of the Crescent 
against the Cross, of Oriental institutions against Wes- 
tern institutions; of despotism against freedom and 
democracy, and of the Koran against the Bible. And 
who shall say that the soldiers under Charles Martel 
were an unchristian band when they stood between the 
Koran and the Bible? Who shall say that they were 
wrong in their conception of duty to themselves and to 
the world when they paid with their lives for the things 
that as a result of their valor were permitted to continue 
to grow in Western Europe and which we in America 
inherit to-day? They were fearing God and were tak- 
ing their own part, and who shall say that they feared 
God in a wrong way, or in a foolish way? Who shall 
say that their conception of the things of right and of the 
spirit was to any extent wrong? And yet we have con- 
scientious objectors to-day who consider it irreligious 
and morally wrong to stand at Armageddon and battle 
for the Lord. And to a very great extent I can not re- 
frain from classifying President Wilson with this latter 
class, and of course I classify Mr. Roosevelt with the 
heroic Greeks, who defeated the Perians and with the 

201 



Franks and Goths and other western peoples who beat 
back Attila, the Hun, and with the soldiers under Charles 
Martel who vanquished the Moslem hordes at the Battle 
of Tours. 

Before the great war which has just been brought to 
a close had drawn the American nation into the mael- 
strom, Mr. Roosevelt went up and down the length and 
breadth of our fair land arousing or trying to arouse 
our people to the danger that threatened them. And 
preaching Preparedness with all his heart and soul, he 
was laughed to scorn and was looked upon only with 
curiosity as one would look upon a new and strange 
species of wild beast recently brought into captivity. 
People utterly failed to comprehend or understand the 
meaning of his message, and utterly failed to grasp his 
point of view. They seemed to think the man was be- 
side himself, yet even after this short time events have 
vindicated his position. He of course knew, having seen 
with his own eyes the German army and having con- 
versed personally with the renowned Kaiser, the nature 
of the new barbarism that was sweeping out of Berlin 
with the idea of overwhelming the world. But Presi- 
dent Wilson did not know it, or did not care to know it, 
and refused to try to know it. He opposed preparedness 
for practically two years after the German horror had 
issued forth to conquer the world. Mr. Roosevelt be- 
lieved in taking his own part, but Mr. Wilson ap- 
pealed to our pacifist tendencies and our pacifist 
thought by deprecating war as an evil as such and 
by preaching in effect, peace rather than righteous- 
ness, and servility to wrong rather than heroic sacrifice 
to righteousness. Mr. Wilson was of course supported 

202 



by all pacifists and conscientious objectors, an enormous 
multitude at that time, and was heralded as the world's 
prophet of peace, and as the one man sent by the Lord 
to keep the American nation out of war. A great crowd 
thronged the streets of Washington to protest against the 
declaration of war. People regarded it as providential 
that Mr. Wilson, rather than Mr. Roosevelt, was at the 
time in the presidential chair. They regarded it as a 
divine interposition in the affairs of man that peace 
should reign in the hands of Mr. Wilson, rather than that 
this nation should be drawn into war by the hands of 
Mr. Roosevelt. And yet, what have the results been? 
We were brought into the war, nevertheless, and the war 
was undoubtedly greatly prolonged because of our 
failure to get into it earlier than we did. It is said that 
many thousands of American lives were saved by Mr. 
Wilson because of his delay in entering the war, but can 
this be true? You will recall that at the time of the out- 
break of the war, the most marvelous thing in regard to 
it all was the surprising loyalty of all nationalities and 
all creeds and all races to the flag to which at the time 
they were paying allegiance. All nations of the earth, 
practically, rallied to the support of the Allies to con- 
tend against German barbarism. Even in Russia, an al- 
most unheard of thing took place. The Jews, who had 
been persecuted by Russian tyranny for centuries, rallied 
to the support of the Czar. Every race and every creed 
in Russia flocked to the colors, believing as they had a 
right to believe, that the time was ripe for the overthrow 
of tyranny not only in Germany, but throughout the 
world. And you will recall the vast army that Russia 
mobilized. Millions of Russians went to the front to 

203 



offer their lives against the tyranny of the German 
armies, and Russia was enthusiastic and full of an al- 
most religious fervor in prosecuting the war. From the 
ranks of the highest to the lowest, this was true. And 
had Russia at that time received America's support, 
even moral, if not material, a very different result might 
have been brought to pass in Russia and all over the 
world. Russia would not have broken when she did, if 
the American army had joined the armies in France at 
an earlier date than it in fact did, and the war would 
have been ended much sooner than it was in fact ended, 
and more than all, Bolshevism might and probably 
would have been prevented from being turned loose 
upon the world. At the beginning of the war it repre- 
sented but a small percent of the Russian people, and 
had Russia not broken and had German perfidy not been 
allowed to have played upon Bolshevist weakness and 
Bolshevist anarchy, the probabilities are that we would 
have law and order in Russia to-day. The tyranny of 
the Czar of course, terrible as it was, was nothing as 
compared to the tyranny of the Bolshevist, and Bolshe- 
vism is threatening the world. 

I have read to you the speech of Michael Bakunin, 
the founder of nihilism, delivered in Geneva some fifty 
years ago. And I wish now to read to you a statement 
or a platform of the Bolshevists promulgated not in 
Russia, and not fifty years ago, but promulgated in 
America, the land of the free and the home of the 
brave, in the year 1919. It was composed, or at least 
has been approved, by what is known as The Federation 
of Unions of Russian Workers in the United States, and 
is as follows: 

204 



"We must consciously hasten the elementary move- 
ment of the struggle of the working class; we must con- 
vert small strikes into general ones, and convert the lat- 
ter into an armed revolt of the laboring masses against 
capital and State. 

"At the time of this revolt we must at the first favor- 
able opportunity proceed to an immediate seizure of 
all means of production and all articles of consumption, 
and make the working class the masters in fact of all 
general wealth. At the same time we must mercilessly 
destroy all remains of governmental authority and class 
domination, liberating the prisoners, demolish prisons 
and police offices, destroy all legal papers pertaining to 
private ownership of property, all field fences and boun- 
daries, and burn all certificates of indebtedness — in a 
word, we must take care that everything is wiped from 
the earth that is a reminder of the right to private owner- 
ship of property; to blow up barracks, gendarme and 
police administration, shoot the most prominent military 
and police officers, must be the important concern of the 
revolting working people." 

"We hate religion because it lulls the spirit with 
lying tales, takes away courage and faith in the power of 
man, faith in the triumph of justice here on the real 
earth and not in a chimerical heaven. Religion covers 
everything with fog; real evil becomes very visionary, 
and visionary good a reality. It has always sanctified 
slavery, grief, and tears. And we declare war upon all 
gods and regligious fables. We are atheists." 

It is part and parcel of the proposition promulgated 
by Bakunin over fifty years ago, and is promulgated as 



205 



I have said, not in Russia, but in America, and at the 
present time. 

Therefore it is that I believe in fearing God and taking 
your own part. Therefore it is that during the great 
war I would have much preferred to have had the 
leadership of Roosevelt in America than the leader- 
ship of Wilson. And I speak of this at this time, also, 
because of the striking analogy between the aifairs of 
individuals as I have related them to you, and the 
affairs of nations. I have spoken at length, of John 
Randolph and the ideas discussed by him and me 
on the western prairies in 1857. I have spoken of 
the great transformation wrought in his life and mine 
by a change of mind, and I said it suggested the ideas 
promoted by the Christian Scientists, but I also hasten 
to say that the fundamental tenet of the Christian Scien- 
tists was not then, and never has been adhered to by me. 
That is, I do not and never have believed in the non- 
existence of matter or of the physical, material world. 
I have always believed in the existence of both things 
spiritual and things material. I have been discussing 
this question of the overcoming of physical ills, however, 
for two reasons; and one reason is to show that I am not 
reactionary, and that I have all sympathy with progres- 
sives everywhere. While I have only discussed this 
question as limited to the field of a semi-religious nature, 
I have all sympathy with progressives and those seek- 
ing new ideas and new thoughts in every field of en- 
deavor, be it religion, politics, or otherwise. And the 
other reason why I have been discussing it, is that, as 
I have said many times, I think there is an analogy be- 
tween the progress made by an individual and the 

206 



progress made by a nation or nations and I can not help 
feeling that there is an analogy to-day between the 
position taken by the Christian Scientists on the one 
hand in regard to overcoming disease and physical ills, 
with the position taken by Mr. Wilson and his followers 
in regard to the overcoming of war and the ills attendant 
thereon in regard to the affairs of nations. You may 
say that there is no analogy in regard to these matters 
but certainly there is an analogy between the attitude as- 
sumed by the Christian Scientists on the one hand, in re- 
gard to those who do not believe in their doctrines, and 
the attitude assumed by the pacifists on the other hand 
toward those who do not believe in their doctrines. Both 
regard those who do not believe in their doctrines as re- 
actionary, barbarous, cruel, bloodthirsty, ignorant and 
out of date. 

But at least up to the present time the world has been 
brought forward more by acknowledging" the existence 
of matter and by combating the evils attendant thereon 
in a scientific way based upon such acknowledgment, 
and by fighting for right upon the battlefields, assuming, 
of course, that moral principle and righteousness are 
always the guiding stars in human conduct, than it has 
been brought forward by refusing to acknowledge the 
existence of matter and by refusing to fight for righteous- 
ness on the battlefield. 

The question now is: To what extent can these old 
methods of progress be abandoned? Christian Scientists 
assert boldly that we can and should abandon at once all 
idea of the existence of matter, and pacifists of course 
insist that we should abandon all ideas of war and 
physical combat. But can we do these things to-day? I 

207 



have said that I have been discussing this matter of over- 
coming physical ills and physical limitations as I have, 
in part, to show that I am not reactionary, and I have 
said that I believe my experiences show that there is 
something that points to a higher and better existence in 
the future, though just what it is, I can not say. And I 
have been discussing the kindred subject of war as we 
have known it to-day and of the effort to forever do 
away with it for the reason that I also think that there 
are things in the present day situation that point toward 
a much better and higher state of affairs in regard to 
that problem also. I think we are indeed approaching a 
new day in both of these very vital matters, but I do not 
think that we have reached the full splendor of noon as 
Christian Scientists and as pacifists would have us be- 
lieve, and I do not think that progress in the world can 
be made to-day by the methods that they advocate. 

I spoke of a change of mind that came over John 
Randolph on the western prairies there near Fort 
Kearney in 1857. This of course was long before the 
ideas of Christian Science were foisted upon the world. 
So far as there is anything in my discovery, of course it 
was due to my own belief and my own research alone. I 
was peering and seeking into the unknown as mankind 
has ever done, seeking to find a way out of the hardship 
and suffering that exists in the world. 

Those who represent the doctrine of spiritualism 
to-day assert substantially that if out of a thousand ex- 
periments, one yields some return and throws off even 
the faintest spark of light in regard to the unknown, that 
the thousand experiments have been justified; that if 
one path out of a thousand can be discovered that leads 






somewhere toward higher and better things, that the ex- 
ploration along the thousand paths have been worth 
while. I make no pretensions to any knowledge of or 
interest in spiritualism, but the statement that even if 
a spark of truth can be found which has never been 
found or discovered before, that the experiments are 
worth while, does appeal to me. It appeals to me in the 
same way that a mechanical invention, crude and clumsy 
and of no utilitarian value at the time, appeals to me for 
the reason that I know that it will in nine cases out of ten, 
lead onto a perfected product that will be of great value 
in the years to come. Thus it is that I have all sympathy 
with progressives and those seeking the truth, but I do 
not have any sympathy with those who refuse to see the 
things that are actually at hand. Mr. Roosevelt has ex- 
pressed the idea in the words : Nationalism as a prerequi- 
site to Internationalism, meaning that internationalism 
and brotherhood will be brought about by the very fact 
of building each national character strong and firm on 
its own individual foundation. This is true of in- 
dividuals as well as of nations. 

But I have gone a long way from the discussion that 
I was having with John Randolph on the western 
prairies. I have spoken many times of the change of 
mind that came over him there as it had come over me 
in Iowa when I first came west, but I have purposely 
left the subject and have wandered from it to the sub- 
ject of national affairs. 



209 



CHAPTER XXVII. 

XHAD many conversations with John Randolph, and 
among others while I was expounding to him the 
great benefits of a change of mind, I discussed 
with him the doctrines of evolution and the survival of 
the fittest, . John Randolph had gone through too much 
from a physical point of view to be entirely won over 
to the new idea so suddenly. Among other things he 
said to me: 

"In my long journeys over the earth it has been vividly 
impressed upon my mind that the physically fit are the 
ones that triumph in this world. I have seen the pitiful 
struggle of the weak against hopeless odds and have 
seen them go down to death as they made way for their 
more fortunate neighbors who were possessed of physi- 
cal endurance and hardihood. What a strange tragedy 
it is" he continued, "when the weak mates with the weak 
and brings into the world weak progeny which like 
themselves are doomed to a life of weary suffering and 
to defeat and failure. A man must fight if he will 
amount to anything in this world, he must fight and hold 
his own against the keenest competition. He must be 
strong and vigorous and must have the virile fighting 
qualities. Otherwise he cannot hope to take a place of 
honor in the world or to win the respect of his fellows. 
He must have that physical endurance that will enable 
him to devote long hours of study and labor to his work 

210 



and that will enable him to meet his fellows with assur- 
ance and confidence. He must forge his own way and 
must expect to get the good things of life only when he 
is strong enough to take them. He must be as alert as a 
beast in the mountains or on the plains, ever watchful for 
an opportunity to strike and equally vigilant against at- 
tack. Nerves of steel and muscles and sinews of iron 
are what win in this world, and courage and constancy 
to purpose are what guard and protect the good things 
from the bad. 

"Without these things there is no chance and one's 
outlook is hopeless" continued my companion. "It is 
just as true of men as it is of animals," he went on, "just 
as true of civilized beings as it is of savages and men of 
the mountains and forests and plains. How many times 
I have been on the point of achieving something worth 
while in my work when I would have to stop work when 
at the very brink of success on account of physical 
weakness and see the fruits of my labor slip away and 
someone else step into the place which I had vacated. 
There is a distinguished English naturalist by the name 
of Darwin who takes the position that evolution plays 
the all-important part in the development of men and 
animals and that the evolutionary process is brought 
about by natural selection and the survival of the fittest. 
In this process there is no sentimentality and not the 
slightest regard for the weak and the unfit and they are 
weeded out and discarded by the strong and the vigorous 
as ruthlessly and as uncompromisingly as it is possible 
for it to be done. The strong prey upon the weak and 
the weak consequently are constantly being destroyed 
and cast aside in the struggle for existence and are con- 

211 



stantly being replaced by the strong. Tragedy after 
tragedy is constantly being enacted in the wilderness as 
the weeding out process goes continually on. For the 
weak there is no chance, no hope, yet this great naturalist 
holds and rightly holds that this inexorable process is 
for the good of the race and constantly tends to elevate 
the standard of the race's physical fitness and vitality. 
It is right that the race should not be allowed to de- 
teriorate b}' the perpetuation of the weak and it is right 
that the race's heritage should be kept at as high a level 
of efficiency as possible, but what of the weak while the 
process is going on? They are without hope," said John 
Randolph disconsolately. 

"I have spoken of the race of men and of the lower 
animals indiscriminately," he continued, "for I think 
the principle is the same with men as it is with beasts. 
The struggle takes on a little different form but its re- 
sults are the same. The tragedies are as heart-rend- 
ing among men as among beasts that live among the 
rocks and trees of the wilderness. And what a wretched 
existence it is for the weak, how discouraging, how hope- 
less; to struggle on day after day with the certain knowl- 
edge that one's companions are placed far ahead in the 
beginning of the race and that to keep from being hope- 
lessly distanced in the race this long discouraging 
handicap must be made up and overcome. It seems the 
acme of injustice. Yet for the benefit of the race it must 
needs be so. 

"It is true of individuals and it is true of nations," 
said John. "The strong survive and the weak die out. 
Human progress is based on force," he continued, "and 
civilization rides on the wheels of the thundering guns. 



212 



That nation which cannot defend itself is lost and that 
one with the physical power strides to "the ascendancy." 

"John," said I, "these things are undoubtedly true, or 
at least have been true in the past, but will they always 
continue to be true?" 

"I have seen nothing to indicate that they will not be" 
he answered. "In my wretched experience as a busi- 
ness man, in my arrest and imprisonment in a hideous 
Siberian prison with its foul horrors; in my experience 
in the wilderness while traveling here, in my struggle 
with wild beasts and wild men and the raging elements 
I have seen nothing to indicate that these things will 
not always be so. Nature is as inexorable in her laws, 
as undeviating in her processes as the most hard-hearted 
tyrant. There is no yielding, no softening for the benefit 
of any individual. Nature and the elements must be 
successfully combated and overcome or the individual 
must die. It is a case of fight to the death and always 
will be. If you have ever been many hundreds of miles 
beyond the confines of civilization, with starvation star- 
ing you in the face, with no shelter except what you in 
your weakness could find or build among the rocks and 
trees, with wild beasts sniffing at your trail and with the 
solemn booming of the storm sounding ominously in the 
trees, you know what these statements mean. Or if you 
have ever been tossed for days on the ocean without a 
friendly sail in sight, expecting every moment that your 
ship would go down you know something of the grim 
laws of Nature. There is no help, there is no hope ex- 
cept that which lies in one's own hands and brain and 
the courage that lies in a dauntless heart." 

"But", I objected, "as civilization advances and as 

213 



Nature is overcome and subdued, these grim and in- 
exorable conditions will become things of the past and 
fighting and animal-like alertness and vigilance will no 
longer be necessary." 

"Bah," said John Randolph, in deep disgust. "As 
civilization advances the harder the struggle will be- 
come," he retorted in intense indignation. "Do not 
be misled by what I have said about Nature," he con- 
tinued. "With all the hardships I have endured since 
escaping from the mines of Kara I have experienced 
nothing so bitter and so sickening as the dreadful things 
I have gone through within the confines of civilization. 

"As civilization advances population will become 
more and more dense and the restrictions incident to a 
bee-like hive of human beings will be thrown about every 
individual. I trust I may never live to see it here in 
America as it is now in Europe. Crawling, struggling, 
seething humanity with its diseases, its prisons, its courts, 
its hospitals, its institutions of every kind and descrip- 
tion, I hope I may never live to see. Rather would I 
die alone in the wilderness or attended by a faithful 
friend than to live a wretched life in a crowded city and 
die of one of the city's diseases even though I might be 
surrounded by physicians, nurses and relatives and 
friends. Like a tough old buffalo bull or a superan- 
nuated wolf I would rather pass back into the elements 
than to die in a crowd where all is hubbub and con- 
fusion. In the shadow of the mountains or in the depths 
of the forest I would rather die of old age or be shot by 
a prowling savage than to die a wreck of a human being 
at the end of a vapid, miserable life. 

"The grand mountain chains of America and the im- 

214 



mense, wide plains are wonderful and offer a freedom 
and a depth of life not elsewhere to be attained. Think 
of the time that is coming when this continent like that 
of Europe will be overflowing with human kind. What 
is to become of men when they get so thick on the earth 
that there is not food enough to feed them? What kind 
of a life will it be when they are so far removed from 
Nature and the soil that their closest approach to these 
things will be aimless and inane strolling in parks and 
gardens? 

"The tragedies of civilization are greater and will be 
greater than those of Nature. The tragedies of civiliza- 
tion will be starving and diseased children in the slums 
of great cities, there will be imprisonment in wretched 
prisons, there will be war, there will be poor health due 
to overcrowding and unsanitary conditions, there will be 
life sapped of its virile energy and of its normal, healthy 
conditions by the artificialities of man-made institutions. 
It will be life made wretched beyond the power of 
words to describe by drink and drugs and social evils too 
terrible to comprehend. 

"Rather would I live alone in the wilderness with the 
great peaks as my silent companions, with the wild 
things of the forests and the mountains to keep me com- 
pany than to cast my self into the seething vortex of a 
miserable humanity. Rather would I see the clean, pure 
trees washed by the rains and snows, rather would I 
daily meet the deer and the wolf and bison than to see 
the throng of human derelicts that crowd the streets of 
civilization's seething centers. Rather would I hear the 
cougar scream at night and the owl hoot and the rumble 
and boom of the avalanche or the steady roar of the 

215 



waterfall than to hear the raucous notes from the throats 
of civilization's outcasts and the clamor of the discordant 
night sounds of a great city. 

"Rather would I make friends with savages and share 
my wigwam or cabin with them and know the inner calm 
of a soul at peace than to fraternize with frauds, 
hypocrites, thieves and scoundrels masquerading as men 
and go down to hell on the well oiled road of civiliza- 
tion. 

"A great change has come over me," said John Ran- 
dolph after a pause. "You, yourself have spoken of it. 
I feel better, have more self-respect and more self-con- 
fidence than I have had for years. I am more at peace 
in my own mind. I even feel that I am going to be 
happy, and that is a thought I have not had for five 
years. You say it is because I have discovered my great 
mistake and have found that God is not against me and 
I am sure that is true, but I think also the great moun- 
tain chains of America and the great forests and great 
plains have something to do with it. The peace and 
calm, the soul-delight incident to life in the American 
wilderness (full of hardships though it is) have had 
something to do with making me see and understand 
that God is for me and not against me. Somehow I can 
never find God in the city, never even in a church in the 
midst of civilization. But in the wilderness where all 
is still and the giant trees lift their venerable heads into 
the sky and where the mountain tops stand sharply out- 
lined against the clear, blue heavens, speaking of eternity 
in their silent vigil through the years, I always feel that 
I am communing with my Maker. And I cannot but be- 
lieve that as civilization gets men farther and farther 

216 



away from this close communion with their Maker that 
life will become more and more sinful, more and more 
a vain thing and more and more a dismal mockery of the 
simple but beautiful things that are worth while. 

"The mountains are God's testimony of His great 
power and of His supremacy throughout eternity. Men 
come and go but the mountains keep watch from genera- 
tion to generation. Lord Byron's lines from the 'Prisoner 
of Chillon' suggest the thought: 

"I saw them — and they were the same, 
"They were not chlanged like me in frame; 
"I saw their thousand years of snow 
^On higih — their wide, long lake below." 

"There is no great poetry, no great literature, no great 
life, no great religion that does not have Nature for its 
foundation and its background," said my companion 
after he had recited Byron's lines with great emotion and 
depth of feeling. 

"The bible itself is largely based on the inspiration 
and beauty of Nature," he continued. "Two of the 
greatest books of the bible, the Book of Job and the 
Psalms, both derive their great beauty, their rich imagery 
and their inspiration from the world of Nature. I dread 
the time that is coming when civilization shall dominate 
the earth and Nature will have no place in the lives of 
men." 

So saying, John Randolph swung into the saddle pre- 
paratory to taking up his journey eastward once more. 

As I rode by his side I could not refrain from express- 
ing to him a few thoughts which his remarks had sug- 
gested. 

217 



"John," I said, "there is a lot of truth in what you 
have been saying. Fundamentally it is all true but you 
have been extreme. You seem to have arrived at what 1 
consider the proper balance between oneself and God but 
you have not arrived at the proper balance between 
Nature and civilization. Either one to the exclusion of 
the other is not right. You are quite right in saying that 
Nature must be in every man's life, must form its back- 
ground and its foundation, but you go too far when you 
say in effect that you would exclude civilization entirely. 
You have quoted Lord Byron and now I want to quote 
some one also. The quotation contains just four words 
and they are 'whatever is, is right.' Civilization must 
therefore be right or there wouldn't be any such thing. 
It is working out the destiny of man and God must have 
contemplated that civilization would be the result when 
He created the world. One other thing I would like to 
call to your attention," I added. "You have told of your 
sufferings in Europe and Asia, of your separation from 
your wife and child and of your wife's death, and of 
your long, weary wanderings as an outcast from society. 
Did it ever occur to you that while you blasphemed God 
for having set His hand against you that He was guid- 
ing your footsteps to this very spot and was bringing you 
farther and farther from despotism and tyranny and to a 
land of democracy and freedom? 

"And did it ever occur to you that God may have re- 
served America for a higher and better type of civiliza- 
tion than any the world has yet known and that nations 
like individuals may come to see the hand of God work- 
ing out man's destiny? 

"And may it not be that war will become a thing of 

218 



the past and that here in America will first be exempli- 
fied the ideal toward which the nations are striving? 

"May it not be that as population becomes more and 
more dense and as food becomes more and more scarce 
that God will become more and more apparent in the 
lives of men and that the fearful problems which ap- 
parently are not capable of being solved, will be by Him 
disposed of? 

"Is it not possible that in the far future when the earth 
is not a fit habitation for men as at present constituted, 
that God will provide and that mankind will, like Job, 
be able to say, 'Now mine eye seeth Thee?' And is it 
not possible that men and women will live more and 
more happily as they become more and more into an un- 
derstanding of God and more and more confident of His 
protection? And may it not be that when that time 
comes that the doctrine of the survival of the fittest will 
be somewhat relaxed and that the weak will be given 
some hope and some chance in the race of life and the 
work of the world? 

"In fact aren't they given some chance already? I 
think you have learned to rely on yourself and yet that 
you have learned that you cannot succeed when you rely 
on yourself alone. You say you have seen no evidence 
that the doctrine of the survival of the fittest will not 
always be true as it is today, yet you yourself are 
strangely transformed from a weakling to a person of 
strength, and you have been brought safely through a 
thousand dangers to a land where you are independent 
and free and are enabled to take your place among the 
strong." 

John Randolph was silent as we rode over the wide 

219 






uncivilized region toward the river that separated us 
from the state of Iowa. 

"Maybe the weak will have some show after all" he 
ventured as we proceeded on our way. 




CHAPTER XVIII. 

0, while John Randolph was to a very great extent 
won over to the idea of the benefits of a change ot 
mind, he had never considered the thought or the 
idea of the non-existence of matter. 

He like myself believed in the existence of both things 
material and things spiritual. I want to speak of this 
particularly for the reason that at the present time the 
analogy between the struggle in individual and national 
affairs seems to me at least, very striking. The struggle 
toward spiritual truth and spiritual enlightenment both 
upon the field of battle and in the realm of the in- 
dividual life, seems to me to be things that almost go 
hand in hand. 

And thus it is that I place my faith in the soldier and 
the militant exponent of truth and righteousness rather 
than in the pacifists and the conscientious objectors. 
And thus it is that I feel that in most cases these latter 
persons merit nothing but the contempt and scorn of the 
great souls who as Mr. Roosevelt has said, "are ready for 
The Great Adventure." 

I have said in my preceding remarks that the upward 
struggle of humankind is in many respects a tragedy. 
John Randolph has spoken, in the things which I have 
quoted to you from the remarks made by him to me 
there on the prairie over sixty years ago, of the tragedies 
of the wilderness and of the tragedies of civilization. 

2'21 



The two tragedies in these different realms, while be- 
ing in different fields, are to a certain extent, neverthe- 
less tragedies of much the same nature. John Randolph, 
as you will have seen from what I have reported to you, 
was pessimistic in the extreme in regard to some of the 
things of which he told me, and concerning which he ex- 
pressed his opinions. You will have seen from what I 
have quoted from him that he appeared to doubt the fact 
that any improvement was being made in civilization 
and in the conditions of humanity. He seemed to doubt 
that civilization was any improvement over Nature. He 
expressed his opinion as you will have seen, that Nature 
was no worse than civilization and that so far as he him- 
self was concerned, that he would have preferred to have 
lived and died within the confines of more or less prime- 
val surroundings than to have lived and died in the more 
complex surroundings of civilization. In regard to war 
and disease and conditions of humanity in general in 
these two realms, so far as we can judge from the con- 
ditions of the past few years in our much boasted twen- 
tieth century, it would seem that John Randolph's pessi- 
mism was to a certain extent justified. 

We have seen the greatest war and the greatest 
epidemic of disease ever known. We have seen the 
greatest tragedy ever enacted upon the face of the earth. 
We have seen the struggle of humankind for higher and 
better things apparently come almost to defeat and to a 
bitter and weary end. Rut in this great struggle that 
has been enacted upon the European continent, there is 
seen something of inspiration and something pointing 
out a high hope to humankind. Indeed there are things 
in this great drama of human life as it has been enacted 

222 



in the last few years, horrible and discouraging as it has 
been, that are more inspiring to humanity as a whole 
than anything that has yet taken place in the history of 
the, world. For in this great tragedy and in this great 
sacrifice made by humanity as a whole, we have seen 
the recognition on the part of humanity everywhere, of 
the value of the things of the spirit and the things of the 
soul. We have seen men make sacrifices for these 
things that they could not be compelled or hired to make 
for material compensation alone. In the great world 
war just brought to a close of course the soldiers of the 
allied armies have fought for territory, and for their 
homes and their firesides and for material wealth and 
material prosperity, but more than that, they have ulti- 
mately fought for the intangible thing that we call moral 
principle and for the even more intangible thing that we 
call spiritual truth and spiritual enlightenment. It is a 
splendid thing to see that men everywhere recognize the 
truth and to see that they appreciate the high value of 
these intangible things. 

And it has ever been so. Unconsciously perhaps, 
mankind has almost from the beginning of the world, 
recognized the value of moral principle and the value 
of spiritual truth and spiritual enlightenment. They 
recognized these things at Marathon and at Chalons, and 
at Tours and at all the other great battlefields of the 
world where Truth has struggled with Wrong, and where 
Righteousness has been pitted against Unrighteousness. 
And a very singular thing about the whole chain of 
human history is the fact that in nearly every case where 
Right has stood with its "back to the wall" confronting 
the combined forces of Wrong and Evil everywhere, that 

223 



Right has ultimately won, and that victory has crowned 
its arms. "Let Truth and Error grapple, for whoever 
knew Truth to be beaten in a fair fight" were the words 
of the immortal Milton, and it has ever been true that 
Truth has utimately been vindicated and Righteous- 
ness has had its reward. Tragedies indeed, are enacted 
for the defense of Truth and Righteousness, but the great 
inspiration to humankind is the fact that Right in the 
long run wins and that triumph is its reward. 

James Russell Lowell has said in substance that "civ- 
ilization rides on a gun carriage", and nothing ever in 
the world was said that has been more true. 

Julia Ward Howe has expressed the thought ad- 
mirably and militantly and beautifully in her famous 
poem entitled THE RATTLE HYMN OF THE REPURLIC. 
"His Truth is marching on" is the watchword of her 
poem. 

"I have read a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel; 
As ye deal with my contemners, so with you my grace shall 

deal; 
Let the hero horn of woman crush the serpent with his heel, 
For God is marching on." 

Everywhere from the dawn of the earliest creation 
we see the truth of the statement that "God is marching 
on". It may seem strange indeed, that He marches in 
such a way, and that such sacrifice must be made in order 
that His truth may go marching on, but undoubtedly it 
is the order of the world. The great tragedy enacted 
upon the European continent in the great world war ap- 
pears to have been the culmination of a great struggle 
that has gone on through all the ages that have gone be- 

2>24 \ 



fore. It seems to have been the great climax of war and 
of strife and of bitter woe. It seems to have been the 
darkness preceding the dawn, or at least while the war 
was being fought we have all hoped that it would be so. 
But whether it is so will be open to question, but in any 
event it has proven more than any other war, and more 
than any other struggle, the value of principle and of 
spiritual truth and enlightenment. And this statement 
is easily proven when we consider the hundreds and 
thousands of young men who have been swept into 
eternity willingly and voluntarily, and when we know 
that no material reward and no material compensation 
could have induced them to have thus made these sacri- 
fices. No one could contend for a moment that the 
soldiers of the allied armies would have gone down to 
death in their hundreds and thousands in this way if 
they had known that their only reward, had they sur- 
vived the conflict, would have been the acquisition of 
territory, or financial or other material compensation. 

And thus it is that civilization rides on a gun carriage, 
and thus it is that the lines of Julia Ward Howe speak 
the truth. It is "a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of 
steel" that down to the present time, at least, has en- 
abled the world to reach the position that it has reached 
to-day. 

But will there never be anything better? Will the 
world go on and on indefinitely advancing the kingdom 
of humankind and of the Almighty by means of the 
"fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of steel"? Will 
there never be any other way? Will the tragedies 
of humankind ever be re-enacted at ever recurring 
intervals in the history of the world? Many people 

225 



believe that they will be so re-enacted. A famous 
author of one of the best known books written about the 
war has spoken of war as the beast, and has referred to 
famine and war and pestilence and death as the four 
horsemen that preceded the beast referred to in the Book 
of Revelations, and in speaking of the beast and of the 
havoc wrought by it during the waging of this great 
world war, and of the probability of its being its last ap- 
pearance upon the face of the earth, the author has writ- 
ten: 

"Blood!" he shouted jubilantly. "All the sky seems 
to be blood-red. * * * It is the apocalyptic beast who has 
received his death-wound. Soon we shall see him die." 

Tchernoff smiled, too, but his was a melancholy smile. 

"No ; the beast does not die. It is the eternal com- 
panion of man. It hides, spouting blood, forty — sixty — 
a hundred years, but eventually it reappears. All that 
we can hope is that its wound may be long and deep, 
that it may remain hidden so long that the generation 
that now remembers it may never see it again." 

Men are hoping to-day that the beast will never re- 
appear. But this author seems to think that it will re- 
appear and even goes so far as to say or to suggest that 
it is the eternal companion of man, though he does say, 
that the wound inflicted upon the beast to-day should be 
so deep as that it will never again reappear within the 
present generation. 

John Randolph and I there on the prairies in the 
middle of the American continent over sixty years ago, 
expressed our belief in both things spiritual and things 
material. We believed in the value and the immense 
importance of the things of the spirit, but we also recog- 

226 



nized and believed in and understood the value and also 
the immense importance of the things of the physical, 
material world. I, at that time, believed in the efficacy 
of a change of mind, and that it pointed to something 
higher and something better than mankind as a whole 
had yet known and John Randolph, after my conversa- 
tions with him, believed also in something of the same 
nature. But he also believed, as I have shown to you, in 
the inexorable nature of the processes of evolution in 
the world of Nature. Of course also I could not help be- 
lieving in the same things. And I have spoken of the 
analogy that it appears to me exists to-day between these 
things that are contended with and struggled for in the 
lives of individuals, and the things of much the same na- 
ture that are contended with and struggled for in the 
lives of nations. In other words, it is the ideal ever 
pointing up and the suggestion and high hope ever held 
up to the gaze of man, and on the other hand, it is al- 
ways the physical, material limitation that restricts and 
hampers the attainment of a desired ideal and a desired 
end. To-day it seems to me that this analogy may be 
illustrated in regard to the things that are before the 
people of the world for determination, by quotations 
from Abraham Lincoln. At the close of our great Civil 
War, Lincoln said: 

"We are not enemies, but friends. We must not be 
enemies. Though passion may have strained, it must 
not break, our bonds of affection. The mystic chords of 
memory, stretching from every battlefield and patriot 
grave to every living heart and hearth-stone all over this 
broad land, will yet swell the chorus of the Union when 

227 



again touched, as surely they will be, by the better angels 
of our nature." 

And there are those who would extend this idea be- 
yond the borders of our own Union, so as to comprehend 
the entire world. It would seem, perhaps, if this idea 
could be expressed and carried out after the close of our 
great Civil War, that the same idea could be expressed 
and carried out all over the world at the close of the 
great World War, and that the idea could be expressed 
and made applicable by substituting for the words: 
"all over this broad land," the words: "all over this 
broad world", and for the words: "will yet swell the 
chorus of the Union", the words: "will yet swell the 
chorus of Humanity". But Lincoln, though pointing to 
the ideal, recognized the inexorable nature of the facts 
that confronted him, for he also said: 

"Fondly do we hope, fervently do we pray, that this 
mighty scourge of war may speedily pass away. Yet if 
God wills that it continue until all the wealth piled by 
the bondsman's two hundred and fifty years of unre- 
quited toil shall be sunk, and until every drop of blood 
drawn with the lash shall be paid by another drawn with 
the sword, as was said three thousand years ago, so still 
it must be said, that the judgments of the Lord are true 
and righteous altogether", recognizing, of course, that 
up to that time at least, the war had been a necessity, 
and that the great ideals and the great expression of the 
thought of brotherhood in the words first quoted from 
him, had been made possible and had been brought 
about by the waging of the great Civil War. And if 
brotherhood throughout the world is to be the result of 
the World War, it may also fittingly be said that it has 

228 



been brought about by the waging of the great World 
War, showing again that as Lowell has said: "Civiliza- 
tion rides on a gun carriage", and as Julia Ward Howe 
has said, "It is a fiery gospel writ in burnished rows of 
steel." 

But the world desires peace. The world is weary of 
war. It is weary of death and carnage and slaughter. 
It is weary of the pestilence and famine and of the four 
terrible horsemen that preceded the beast referred to in 
the Book of Revelations. The world has been swept by 
war and may it not be purged and purified as by fire as 
the result thereof? May it not be that like the Heavens 
after a storm, that the atmosphere may become clarified 
and pure? What shall we as Americans say in regard 
to the situation and in regard to this question? What 
shall we as Americans do in regard to the spreading of 
the gospel of peace and the idea of brotherhood through- 
out the world? We have already contributed much. 
We have already made possible the winning of the great 
World War for the forces of democracy, but we have 
made it possible not through a policy of pacifism, but 
through a policy of the defense of righteousness; and 
the culmination upon the American continent of the 
highest and best civilization that the world has yet 
known has been made possible in the same way. 
America, land of the free and the home of the brave, to 
whose shores those seeking freedom and independence 
have fled from old world despotism and old world 
abominations, has turned her face eastward once more in 
order to save the world. America has gone back to the 
lands from which her people came in order to carry 
to those lands and to all lands throughout the world the 

229 



things which her people through many generations, have 
died to save. America, with her wealth and her pros- 
perity and with her soldiers and her steel, has saved the 
world. 

The great French general at the Battle of the Marne 
said: "They shall not pass" and civilization, on the issue 
in the struggle that took place there, hung as by a single 
thread. In many previous battles it has thus pre- 
cariously hung in a similar way. It was so at Marathon, 
and at Chalons, and at Tours, and it was so at Saratoga 
and Yorktown and it was also so at Gettysburg and 
Appamattox. Lincoln said : "The Union must and shall 
be preserved" and on the issues joined between the North 
and the South as the result of those few words, civiliza- 
tion trembled in the balance. 

Wherever Truth has had its back to the wall, and 
wherever the hosts of barbarism and paganism were 
sweeping it apparently into oblivion, it has nevertheless 
triumphed and has nevertheless come into its own. 
Thus it has been true in the great World War, and 
though at the Marne it was the result of the heroism of 
the gallant French in stemming the German hordes, and 
though at Verdun it was the same, and though in Flan- 
ders and in Picardy it was the result of the heroism of 
both French and English in stemming the tide of the 
Teutonic invasion, and though on the sea it was the re- 
sult of the heroism of those who manned the British fleet 
in preventing German Kultur from overwhelming the 
world, it is nevertheless true that had it not been for 
America in the critical hour, it is not only possible, but 
probable that Truth with its back to the wall would have 
been swept aside and the pagan hosts would have gone 

230 



on to Paris and to London. America is still the home of 
liberty lighting the world, and for many long years and 
generations it will ever be. What then shall our atti- 
tude be toward all the other nations of the world? Shall 
we in the spirit of brotherhood and altruism admit our 
equality with all the other nations of the earth and say 
nothing of our superiority over the vast majority of 
them and submit ourselves to their dictation? Are we 
unfit at the close of the great World War to guide our 
own ship of state and to shape our own destiny? Are 
we more unfit to-day than were the pilgrim fathers who 
sailed westward over an unknown ocean to an unknown 
land to brave the dangers of unknown peoples and un- 
known tribes to the end that they might be free? Does 
America mean no more to us to-day than simply one of 
the nations of the earth on a plane of equality with all 
the others? Does America mean nothing to us to-day 
other than a state in the Union of the United States of 
the World? This no doubt has been the dream of many, 
many people both in this country and abroad. During 
the waging of the great World War many people in 
other lands and in our own land believed that the war, 
if won by the Allies, would bring forth a United States 
of the World. They believed that it was bringing forth 
the dawn of the brotherhood of man. And if it could be 
so, it should be so. But America is yet the leader of the 
nations of mankind. It is yet the leader of the world 
and the one nation to which all other nations look for 
guidance and strength and stability in the present 
chaotic condition of the world. It is the one nation su- 
preme among all the nations of the earth and it has been 
so made supreme by the fact that civilization has ridden 

231 



on a gun carriage, and by the working out of a "fiery 
gospel writ in burnished rows of steel", and by the sacri- 
fice and human endeavor that has gone on since the be- 
ginning of the world. It is the culmination of the force 
of evolution in the world. It is the highest expression 
of the combination of things spiritual and things mate- 
rial. Its ideals are great and are recognized as being the 
greatest in the world, and its material wealth and pros- 
perity are great and are recognized as also being the 
greatest in the world. It has in a greater degree than 
any other nation of the earth, a combination of both the 
things that are necessary for greatness, and greatness in 
the world to-day implies the combination of both of these 
things. It implies these things in both the lives of in- 
dividuals and the lives of nations. Ideals are fine and 
we must have them, but they are of little value if we can 
not put them in practice, and material wealth and pros- 
perity and physical strength are fine, but they are of little 
value if we have not the ideals necessary to properly di- 
rect them. Though we are tending toward the things of 
the spirit and the things of the soul, though the sacrifices 
of the soldiers on the battlefields demonstrated beyond 
the question of a doubt that those things are recognized 
as our goal and as the highest things within the realm 
of human thought, yet it is nevertheless true that we will 
attain them only by striving for them within the realm 
of the material, tangible world that is at hand. 

Mr. Roosevelt's statement that "We must have na- 
tionalism as a prerequisite to internationalism" might 
be extended by saying we must have individualism as a 
prerequisite to brotherhood, and that we must have the 
tangible as a prerequisite to the intangible, and that we 

2*2 



should not overreach our ability to go forward in the 
world as it is now constituted. Those who believe in the 
non-existence of matter, it seems to me are overreaching 
their ability, and those who believe that the brotherhood 
of man is here, and that the millenium has begun to 
dawn, also overreach their ability as that ability exists in 
the world to-day. We are living in the present and we 
must contend with the things that the present puts before 
us. We can not with success live altogether in the future. 
That the brotherhood of man will come, and that wars 
will be practically brought to an end, I can scarely 
doubt, and that the beast will be not only wounded so as 
not to reappear for many generations, but that it will 
finally be executed, I can scarcely doubt, but I neverthe- 
less believe that to-day our duty is to contend with the 
forces that we find about us, and that we should not over- 
reach ourselves. 

I have admitted that I may be prejudiced in regard to 
my views upon these questions that confront the 
American people to-day, and I have been telling my story 
and have been stating my reasons for being thus prej- 
udiced, and I suppose that I should go on with my story 
in order that you may see more fully why I entertain the 
views that I do and more fully why I have arrived at the 
conclusions that I have arrived at. 

I do not want to leave the subject, however, without 
paying, so far as I am able, a tribute to the soldiers who 
have fought upon the battlefields of the great World 
War. All of human history, it seems to me, is a history 
of human struggle and of human effort to advance and to 
get up higher. I have spoken of the pathetic nature of 
this struggle, and I have spoken of it as a tragedy and it 

233 



seems to me that it is. I have said, however, that run- 
ning through it all there is something that points ever 
upward and that there is something that speaks ever of 
something higher and that there is something that ever 
inspires men to press on and to struggle on. The cul- 
mination of all the great struggles that have gone on in 
the history of the world prior to this time has been 
brought to pass upon the battlefields of this last great 
war. The struggle here has been upon a scale unpre- 
cedented in the history of the world. Sacrifice here has 
been such as has never been known before in the history 
of the world. Consecration to ideals here has been of a 
nature hitherto unknown. The tremendous scale of the 
operations of the great war have been more tremendous 
than that of any other struggle or of any other combat, 
and those who have gone down to their deaths and have 
paid the supreme sacrifice that humanity might go on 
and ever on in its upward march are entitled to the con- 
secration of thought and to all of the tender memories 
and devotion of posterity that it is possible to bestow 
upon the memory of those who have departed this life. 
Yet 

"They are not dead; 
Life's flag is never furled; 
They passed from world to world. 
Their bodies sleep but in some noble land 
Their spirits march under a new command. 
New joys await them there 
In hero heavens wrapt in immortal air." 

I have said that in this tremendous struggle that has 
taken place upon the battlefields of Europe that the 
struggle has been of a two-fold nature, that it has been 

234 



in the realm of the spirit and in the realm of the mate- 
rial, and I think that this is true, but the point that I 
wish to make is that while ultimately we are struggling, 
as I believe for the things of the spirit, and while ulti- 
mately the struggle that goes on in the tangible, material 
world is to the end that the things of the spirit may be 
revealed and brought forth, that nevertheless the struggle 
to-day is confined almost wholly to the realm of things 
tangible and things material. The ideal leads ever on. 
It burns brightly above the battlefield as a glorious star 
lighting the firmament and pointing the way. But the 
battlefield is nevertheless on the ground, and the feet of 
the soldiers are on the ground, and the battles are fought 
and determined there. I mean by this, of course, that 
the spiritual kingdom to-day will best be advanced by 
struggling in the material kingdom. And I mean by that 
that we can hardly advance it in any other way. I mean 
also that the results obtained to-day from the struggle in 
the realm of the spirit are practically negligible as com- 
pared with the results that are obtained in the realm of 
the material. Christian Scientists would deny this, but 
when we look for the results, it seems to me that the 
statements can not be denied. It seems to me that the 
refusal of those who believe in the non-existence of mat- 
ter to call a doctor to administer to a person lying on 
his death-bed, is of the same nature as the refusal on the 
part of a nation to prepare itself when the hordes of 
barbarism are sweeping out of their strongholds to over- 
whelm the world. 

I do not mean that Christian Scientists always 
confine their efforts to the realm of the spirit alone, 
but I do mean that they very often do so both to the 

235 



detriment of themselves and humanity as a whole. 
Preparedness up to date, at least, has been the watch- 
word of the nations, and it has been well that it has been 
so. It is strange that it was not so to a greater extent in 
our own country during the early part of the waging of 
the great World War. The hordes of barbarism were 
issuing out of Berlin and were overwhelming all of the 
weak and helpless peoples that came in their way and 
were threatening the greater nations that stood between 
us and the barbaric hordes in a way that to a properly 
balanced mind could not give rise to anything but the 
gravest apprehension. The British fleet and the armies 
of France stood between us and the Germanic hordes 
and it seems clear that those things are all that saved us 
from a barbaric war here on our own shores. It was 
said that the German army could not have reached 
America with any decree of strength even had the 
British fleet and the armies of France not been in its 
way, but the answer to this is that the armies of America 
reached European shores in tremendous strength and it 
seems clear that the armies of Germany could have 
reached American shores in the same way. Yet our 
government refused to prepare. Our president after the 
sinking of the Lusitania, said that there was such a 
thing as being "too proud to fight". He said substan- 
tially that there was such a thing as being "so right that 
it would not be necessary to fight". But such statements 
of course would not have stopped and did not stop to any 
extent the onward sweep of the Teutonic armies. Mr. 
Roosevelt, on the other hand, went up and down the 
length and breadth of the land preaching preparedness. 
He dealt with facts and with the physical, tangible, mate- 

236 



rial world. President Wilson, in so far as he dealt with 
anything, dealt with abstractions and theories and pro- 
fessed to deal with the things of the spirit, yet after prac- 
tically three years of carnage and slaughter upon the 
European battlefields, he came around to the Roosevelt 
view and advocated "force and force without stint, and 
force to the utmost". "Nine-tenths of wisdom," Mr. 
Roosevelt says, "consists of being wise in time," and cer- 
tainly nothing has proved his statements so much as the 
conduct of President Wilson in regard to preparedness. 

Thus it is that I say that up to the present time, at 
least, the upward struggle of humanity has been largely 
in the realm of the material. Thus it is that I believe in 
fearing God and in taking one's own part. The part of 
God will undoubtedly be taken by Himself and un- 
doubtedly we, by any efforts of our own, could not im- 
prove upon His activities, and thus it is also that I be- 
lieve the same is true in regard to disease and physical 
limitations. The great epidemic of disease that swept 
over the world immediately after the great war had 
to be dealt with according to scientific principles that 
we understand to-day. I doubt if the dealing with 
it that was done by those who believed otherwise, and 
who believe in faith alone, accomplished much if any- 
thing. This may seem strange to you after hearing the 
fore part of my story. It may seem to you that I of all 
others would be one who would support the Wilson view 
in regard to preparedness for war, and would be one 
who would support the Christian Scientist's view in re- 
gard to dealing with disease, but because of the very fact 
of the experiences that I have related in the fore part of 
my story, I support exactly the opposite views and 

237 



exactly the opposite position. I do this for the reason 
that while, as I have said, I think there has been made in 
the world to-day a beginning toward a realization of the 
things of the spirit, I believe nevertheless that it is only 
a beginning that has been made, and that no real sub- 
stantial results have yet been attained. I believe that a 
faint glimmer of light has been seen, but I believe that 
scarcely even the first rays of dawn have been visible 
and I feel sure that the white light of noon of things 
spiritual is not yet upon us. Those who profess to be- 
lieve that it is, either in the realm of national affairs or 
individual affairs, it seems to me are peculiarly blind to 
the facts that they see about them, and those who re- 
fuse to take their own part in the world as it is to-day 
because of their belief in the fact that the kingdom of 
Heaven is at hand, are peculiarly remiss in their duties 
to themselves and to humankind. We can not yet ignore 
the great driving force that comes up from the early 
world that makes every individual and every nation 
look out for himself and itself. We can not ignore the 
great propelling force in the world that develops the fit 
and enables it to survive and thus brings about the 
higher and better type of life in the world to-day, and 
thus benefits not only those who thus obey these laws, 
but also the entire world. Thus it is that I believe in 
carrying on the struggle in the realm of the material, 
guided of course ever by moral principle and by truth 
and honesty and by high ideals. And I believe in thus 
carrying on the struggle, because of the very fact of the 
experiences that I have related in the begining of this 
story. I thus believe in carrying on the struggle princi- 
pally for the reason that the struggle in my own life to 



attain the things of the spirit has largely failed. I have 
struggled for the light, and as I have related, I have seen 
a glimmer of the light, but I have been compelled to 
give up the struggle. 

And therefore it is that I have arrived at the conclu- 
sions that I have arrived at. I do not believe that the 
weak attain or see enough of the light of spiritual things 
to-day to in any sense justify our abandonment of things 
material. 

I have said that my struggle for the things of the 
spirit has failed. In regard to that I often think of the 
lines of the Persian poet in the popular poem: 

"Why if the soul can fling the dust aside, 
"And naked on the air of heaven ride, 
"Were it not a shame, were it not a shame, 
"For it crippled, in this clay carcass to abide?" 

And undoubtedly you wonder why, if I saw any of 
the light at all, I could not go on and see more of it, and 
find and open and develop greater fields in the same 
realm. I answer that I do not know. But I also answer 
that I could not, and I very much doubt if those who 
profess to believe in the non-existence of matter can go 
any farther than I have gone or could to any extent 
prove to unprejudiced persons the truth of the things 
that they profess to believe. They speak of demonstra- 
tions, but I have never yet seen one. They speak of 
miracles to-day the same as miracles of the past, but I 
have never yet seen any. I have heard of many such, 
but none has ever come under my observation, and I 
doubt if any have ever been performed or if any have 
every taken place. This you may say is a pessimistic 

229 



view and a reactionary view, and an unenlightened and 
ignorant view, but whatever it may be, it is* not a view or 
conclusion arrived at through desire, but simply as a re- 
sult of what I believe that experiences and facts show. 
If there is any way of getting rid of disease and physical 
limitations and physical suffering other than by work- 
ing in the realm of the material and if there is any way 
of getting rid of war and famine and pestilence without 
submitting to slavery and chains and despotism and 
things worse than war, I would be the first to welcome 
them. But the question is: Is there any such way? It 
may seem strange that a just God would create a world 
or would set in motion forces or would govern them by 
laws that would create such havoc and such destruction 
and such despair in the world, and Christian Scientists 
of course do not believe that He ever did do these things, 
and believe that there not only is no such thing as mat- 
ter, but also that there is no such thing as evil and no 
such thing as pain, and that all of these things are the 
products of man himself and the results of his own 
thought and his own imagination. It may seem strange 
that We are left, if we are left, to work out our own 
salvation in such an environment, but the history of the 
world as the great majority of mankind understands it 
to-day shows that we have been thus left. 

However the fact that whenever civilization was 
hanging by a thread and whenever Truth had its back 
to the wall, and whenever mankind had reached the 
critical point in its life and in its career, that Truth has 
ever triumphed and that Righteousness has had its re- 
ward, would indicate that we are not left entirely alone, 
but also it would indicate that we are left to fight these 

240 



battles in the realm of material things and in the realm 
of disease and pain and evil and all of the wretched 
things that flesh is heir to. We believe that we are go- 
ing on and up and we believe that something higher and 
something better than exists in our own mortal minds is 
pointing the way, but we can not prove it and we can 
not demonstrate it. 

And thus it is that while I am unqualified in my state- 
ments that we should prepare as individuals and as 
nations for the great upward struggle, and that we 
should prepare according to our present day standards, 
that I nevertheless have sympathy with those who are 
struggling on and with those who are seeking a higher 
and better way. I trust that I am neither a blind 
optimist, nor a fanatic, nor an ignorant reactionary. I 
believe that great changes are going on in the world in 
the lives of both individuals and nations. I believe that 
the greatest change ever yet made in the world has been 
made in the present generation, and is being made 
to-day, but I believe that this change is being grossly 
and wrongly misconstrued and misinterpreted by 
fatuous and foolish-minded persons who are more ignor- 
ant of facts than they are of theories. 

I suppose that if I would go on with my story and 
would tell of the experiences that I went through upon 
the American continent during a long life, or at least 
during the period of my life, which I hope to relate to 
you, that it would become still more plain to you why I 
have arrived at the conclusions that I have arrived at. 
And I shall now proceed to go on with that story. 

But you insist on knowing why my search for the 
things of the spirit has failed, and if I succeeded in it to 

241 



any extent at all, why I could not succeed to a greater 
degree or to a greater extent. I have answered that I do 
not know. I suppose that I shall have to admit that 
some of the success which I attributed to a change of 
mind was due solely to a change of environment and a 
change of occupation, but I would not admit that it was 
entirely due to that. And I have often thought that per- 
haps that program which I originally tried to carry out 
has been carried out farther than I have ever realized 
that it was being carried out, perhaps, in an indirect way 
rather than a direct one, and that I have received benefits 
from it indirectly rather than directly, or at least in such 
a way as that it would be impossible for me to determine 
whether they were due entirely to my own efforts or to 
the interposition of some greater or some outside power. 
I have said that it has always seemed to me that the 
relation of the Supreme Being and an individual was 
something in the nature of a partnership in which each 
played practically an equal part. To what extent 
destiny or the power of a Supreme Being enters into our 
lives, of course we can not tell. It may enter in more 
than we suspect, but nevertheless may be worked out in 
human rather than in divine channels and it may not of 
course enter in at all. Christian Scientists of course say 
that it does not enter in at all in the sense that there 
might be a special divine interposition in favor of one 
individual as against another. They say there is no en- 
tering in and no special visitation upon the part of the 
Almighty, but that it is incumbent upon us to enter into 
His kingdom rather than for Him to enter into ours. 
And this last statement, of course, seems reason- 
able. But neither they, nor any one else, have reached 

242 



the point in their philosophy or their development to-day 
whereby they can prove to an unprejudiced world the 
truth of the things that they maintain, regardless of their 
many claims to the contrary. Things claimed as demon- 
strations by them may always as clearly be attributed to 
other and material causes. The same as my claim there 
upon the prairies to the benefits of a change of mind 
might, to others, as easily have been attributed simply 
to a change of climate and a change of environment. So 
I say that while I believe the truth of the things that 1 
have stated, and believe in them in my own mind, yet 
nevertheless I never could prove anything and that even 
in my own life I was long ago compelled to abandon 
these things and to live entirely within the established 
order and according to natural laws as we understand 
them. It is in this sense that I say that I have failed in 
my search for the things of the spirit. 

And now to go on with my story and to show further 
why I have arrived at the conclusions that I have arrived 
at, looking up as I do, and nevertheless having through 
a long life had it fairly burned into my soul that one 
must take his own part in the world. 



243 



CHAPTER XIX. 

^TrtE were proceeding eastward across the prairies from 
Vlx our camp near Fort Kearney where the weary 
wayfarers from the other side of the world had 
come into our camp. One morning as we were 
breaking camp and were preparing for the eastward 
journey, John Randolph surveyed the landscape about 
him, and with vigorous tread was walking about the en- 
campment when he suddenly stopped and said that if he 
had his wife and child he would be the happiest man in 
the world. I asked him to tell me of his wife and child. 
I have already told you that Donald Moore had told me 
that a peasant had brought the news to them while they 
were at Kara that the wife had been thrown into a 
dungeon and had died, and that it was probable that the 
child had soon afterwards also died. While we were 
discussing these things, Sir Robert, who up to that time 
had paid but little attention to our conversation, came 
nearer and appeared to listen with great interest. "I 
wonder", he said as he suddenly broke into our conver- 
sation, "if this child of yours of whom you are speak- 
ing, could be the one that I brought west with me from 
New York to Adel a year ago". John Randolph ap- 
peared almost thunderstruck and gaped with open mouth 
at the person who had addressed him. He appeared to 
be unable to comprehend the question that had been put 
to him. So long he had given up not only his wife, but 

244 



his child also as being dead, that the thought that either 
might be alive had scarcely occurred to him. Sir Robert 
with great nonchalance, and with great ease of manner, 
repeated the question, and John Randolph being unable 
to respond, Sir Robert went on to say that while he was 
crossing the Atlantic Ocean he became acquainted on the 
ship with a young Russian who had in his charge a little 
boy three or four years of age, which he said he was tak- 
ing to relatives in New York City. During the long 
voyage Sir Robert had become fairly well acquainted 
with the young Russian, and also with the little boy, and 
ii seems had taken considerable fancy to the child. Also 
he had become greatly interested in the story told by 
the young man, and this he related to us there on the 
prairie. 

He said that he had been informed by the young man 
that the child's father had been exiled to Siberia, 
and that his mother, because of an attempt to do 
something in her husband's behalf, had also been taken 
into custody by the government and had been cast into a 
dungeon and had died there. He said that he was a near 
neighbor of the parents of the child, and that when the 
mother had been taken from her home, that he had taken 
charge of the child. He said that hearing that the 
mother had died, he had set out for America, both be- 
cause he wanted to go there himself, and also because he 
knew that the child's parents had relatives in New York 
City, and it was his intention to turn the child over to 
them. 

In utter amazement John Randolph listened to the 
story, and then in a bewildered way inquired the name of 
the village in Russia where these things had taken place. 

245 



When Sir Robert named the place, John Randolph nearly 
lost control of his senses. It was the very town where he 
had lived and where he had been apprehended by the 
government. Further conversation developed the fact 
that it was very probably true that the child of which Sir 
Robert had spoken was the child of John Randolph. 
Sir Robert further said, having taken the interest in the 
child that he had, he had gone with the young Russian 
to the relatives spoken of in New York City, and having 
discovered that these relatives were sunk in poverty and 
were living in one of the worst quarters in the city, he 
asked permission to take charge of the child himself, 
which was readily granted, and thereupon he brought 
the child with him to the town of Adel in the State of 
Iowa. 

After discussing the matter at length, both Sir Robert 
and John Randolph were convinced that the child was 
the one which John Randolph had so long mourned. Of 
course he could scarcely wait until he arrived at Adel. 
Our journey eastward was carried on with all possible 
speed. The impatience of the young Englishman to 
reach the little village on the banks of the North Rac- 
coon River could scarcely be controlled, and when we 
arrived there we found that what they had anticipated 
was true. The child was John Randolph's beyond a 
doubt, though the father had some difficulty in reconcil- 
ing the appearance of the boy as he was then, with the 
picture that he had retained in his mind since he had 
been exiled to Siberia. The reunion of course was a de- 
lightful one, and it again spoke eloquently to me of the 
grandeur and sublimity of America, and of the haven that 



246 



it should be for the miserable and poverty-stricken ones 
from the Ancient East. 

John Randolph was delighted with his Iowa home. 
The following spring was a happy time for him. Living, 
growing things in such abundance, he had never seen be- 
fore. The quiet seclusion, the absolute freedom, the 
wealth of the vegetable world were sources of never-end- 
ing wonder to him. 

He dug in the deep, rich soil and followed the plow 
like a child engrossed with things hitherto unknown. 

He was telling us one day of the East and of his 
sufferings there. We were listening in a kind of awed 
silence to the story of suffering. Nearby a thicket of 
wild plum trees white with bloom was filling the air 
with its sweet perfume. Wild crab apple trees along 
the river bank were pure and beautiful in their blossoms 
of spring. Birds were singing and maple and elm and 
oak were responding to the wonderful influence of the 
sun in its northward journey. Vegetation was taking 
root in the deep, black soil, the earth was becoming 
green, buds were swelling and bursting into bloom. The 
rejuvenation of the earth was all about us, was every- 
where apparent; the resurrection of the world seemed 
to take place before our eyes. 

The light green of the treetops extended in a beautiful 
fringe up and down the river, the thickets of hawthorn 
and plum blossoms showing snowy white among the 
green of the half developed foilage on the trees. The 
prairie extended westward like a green undulating lawn. 

John Randolph surveyed the scene about him. 

"I did not know there was such a land" he said. "I 
did not know there was such freedom, such beautiful, 

247 



quiet seclusion, such prodigality of Nature. It is the land 
of hope for the oppressed, the land of inspiration for the 
downcast and discouraged. It seems a miracle that I am 
here, it is too good to be true. 

"I have always loved Nature with a passionate love 
but this spring while living here in the enjoyment of 
good health I have known what it is to live in the true 
sense of the word. I have been up at dawn and have 
seen the sun rise, I have walked in the sun's early morn- 
ing beams, I have seen the birds awake and have heard 
them sing, and I have watched the buds and blossoms 
develop on the trees. I have breakfasted with appetite 
made keen by exercise in the open air, I have seen and 
felt the glory of the sun shining upon growing trees and 
plants at noon. I have known the dignity of labor in 
the morning and the afternoon and I have worked in the 
soil with my own hands. I have refreshed myself with 
meat and bread at the close of day, have watched the sun 
descend in red and yellow and gold, have heard the last 
cry of wandering birds as they sink to rest upon the 
prairie and have gone to my repose to sleep as Nature 
has intended. Refreshed and invigorated I have left my 
bed at the break of day to greet again the great luminary 
and to marvel at its regularity and precision through so 
many thousands of years. 

"Truly this is a wonderful land and truly it is won- 
derful to live here." 

But the struggle for human liberty then, as now, was 
everywhere going on. 

One day while John Randolph and I were talking of 
America we discussed the question of the possibility of 
civil war. 

248 



I told John how the slavery question was becoming 
more and more acute. I told him that some of the 
Southern states were proposing to secede from the Union. 
That they proposed to set up an independent confederacy 
of states in the South and that slavery was to be per- 
mitted and continued there. 

"I have read of the negro slavery in this country," he 
said. "Is it as bad as it is represented?" 

"I don't know how bad it is represented," I answered, 
"but it is bad enough." 

"They have a fugitive slave law," I continued, "com- 
pelling people in the northern states to assist in the 
capture of escaped slaves which are found in northern 
territory and compelling them to return the slaves to 
their owners." 

"Do you obey that law?" asked John Randolph with 
narrowing eyes. 

"I certainly do not" I answered. "On the contrary 
I have assisted escaped slaves on their way to Canada." 

John Randolph sat down as though he were over- 
come with disappointment. 

"To think that in this great land where freedom seems 
in the very air that human beings are bought and sold 
like cattle? To think that there is a law compelling non- 
slave holders to assist in the capture of slaves. 

"I am against human slavery" he announced as he 
rose from his seat, "I am against it with all my heart and 
soul." 

He threw his hands aloft and raised his eyes to the 
sky. 

"I will fight it" he continued, "to the last drop of 
blood. If war comes I shall enlist. I shall do my part 

249 



to keep this land free. I shall do my part to keep all this 
wonderful land in the Union. America, the United 
States are the hope of the world. The eyes of the ancient 
East are turned westward toward the great, new land be- 
yond the seas. Before human slavery shall dominate 
this land, before liberty shall be trampled on here as it 
is there I at least shall offer my life and give it if neces- 
sary that human freedom shall prevail." 

"There is going to be war," said Joe Burgess, "make 
no mistake about that." 

"Then I shall take part in it" said John Randolph, 
and the conversation ended. 

These things of which I am telling you of course took 
place in the year 1857. John Randolph and I and my 
Uncle, with Joe Burgess, and Donald Moore spent the 
winter of 1857 and '58 at my Uncle's home on the banks 
of the North Raccoon River at Adel. It was a splendid 
winter from my point of view. I had seen John Ran- 
dolph and his child united and in the haven of my 
Uncle's home. I spent the long winter nights before the 
great fireplace resplendent with its glowing, burning logs, 
reading the history of the Ancient East and the Orient. 
I read of all the history of the things which I have re- 
lated to you, and of course the history of many things 
more in regard to the upward struggle of humankind and 
of the westward trend of nations. I read of the Battles of 
Marathon and Chalons and Tours, and then I read of the 
contest waged by the English people with their kings, and 
with their tyrants to the end that better institutions and 
better laws and better governments might be brought 
forward in the English speaking world. I read of the 
flight of the Separatists to Holland and thence to 

250 



America, and of the bringing forth upon American soil of 
the newest and best institutions yet known in the history 
of mankind. I read of the great migrations of people 
westward and of the struggle of humankind to get a 
foothold upon American soil and to develop here govern- 
ments founded upon freedom and liberty instead of upon 
despotism and tyranny. I read of Washington and of 
Jefferson and of James Monroe. I read of the founda- 
tions of the American government and of the principles 
that were established here. I read of Yorktown and of 
Valley Forge, of the formation of the American consti- 
tution and of the Declaration of Independence. I read 
of the formation of that constitution declared by Glad- 
stone to be the most wonderful work ever struck off at 
a given time by the brain and purpose of man. I read of 
great things and of great men and of great events. I 
read of Americanism, of its foundations and of the 
things in the history of the world for which it stood. I 
read of the sacrifices that had been made that it might 
be brought forth in the world and that it might indeed 
bring liberty to enlighten the world. And I myself, as I 
read of these things, enjoyed freedom. I enjoyed it per- 
haps as did no other man in the world. Upon me there 
was no restraint, and no chains either of ill health or of 
slavery. Not even the restriction of the business world 
or professional life had any hold upon me. I was free to 
go and come as I pleased and I exercised my freedom to 
the fullest extent. 

The following spring I set out in company with Joe 
Burgess and John Randolph to make a journey over the 
Santa Fe Trail. My reasons for this it would not be 



251 



worth while to explain, and I suppose I could not ex- 
plain them if I tried, but in any event I made the trip. 

I say I could not explain why I made the journey, 
but I suppose it was principally because of my love of 
freedom and my great love of the West, and I suppose 
also that my relations with Julia King to a certain extent, 
entered into the matter, though of course why I should 
proceed toward the southwest over the Santa Fe Trail, 
while according to my best information she was in Utah, 
would hardly appear to be reasonable, but as I have said, 
the relations of a young man and a young woman hardly 
ever are reasonable. 

The old trail, as did all of the trails across the great 
plains, held a great fascination and a great charm for 
me. The great westward hegira of people across these 
vast and sunlit plains toward the far-off mountains 
threw an irresistible charm over my soul. The great 
lands and the great caravans moving across them held 
the embodiment of freedom and the great expression of 
bold spirits hitting out toward new fields and untried 
realms to develop and bring forth a new civilization and 
a new type of life in the western world. The newness 
and the freedom of it all I could not resist. The evolu- 
tionary development of this great land from the very be- 
ginning has held an interest for me that I could not ex- 
press in words. What a wonderful period we have 
gone through here in America in a brief span of a life- 
time ! What a wonderful change has been brought forth 
upon the American continent and what wonderful things 
it has meant to all mankind! Evolution has been ex- 
pressed here as nowhere else in the world, and it has 
been expressed tremendously and wonderfully. The old 

252 



trails that I wandered over in my youthful days and over 
which the white-topped wagons and ox teams moved at 
the rate of fifteen miles a day toward the western moun- 
tains and the western ocean, soon after witnessed the 
pony express, and then the transcontinental railway 
lines, and then a comparatively short time later, the air- 
ship flying westward from the Atlantic to the Pacific 
shores. I myself have seen the ox team setting out on 
its well-nigh interminable journey. I have seen the 
emigrants and pioneers fighting the savage Indians that 
everywhere beset the trail, and I have seen that pass into 
utter oblivion and have seen these other things of which 
I have spoken, take their places. I have seen the great 
West fill up with a great race and a great tide of people. 
I have seen the buffalo and Indian pass to their reward. 
I have seen cities and towns spring up where the wolves 
serenaded about the trappers' campfire at night, and I 
have seen all of the complex and intricate manifesta- 
tions of the most wonderful civilization upon the globe 
spring up within the period of a lifetime. But in that 
day, some sixty years ago, when I and my two com- 
panions set out westward over the Santa Fe Trail to- 
ward the old town of Santa Fe, that evolutionary move- 
ment of which I have spoken was at its beginning. 
From end to end of the old trail there was not a bridge. 
Savage Indians, as I have said, at every point beset the 
trail. Every grove and every prominent headland or 
rock harbored its savage band ready to swoop down 
upon the slow-moving caravan. Civilization here was 
won by those who feared neither man nor beast nor 
devil and who looked unmoved in the face of life or 
death. Hardy and intrepid these grim, determined fore- 

253 



runners of the wave of civilization that was to sweep the 
American continent, set out westward over the old trails 
to seek their fortune in the far-distant West. Romance 
and charm hovered everywhere about the slow moving 
ox teams and long wagon trains. Hair-raising fights and 
wild escapades everywhere took place, General Dodge, 
who later built the Union Pacific Railway, being au- 
thority for the statement that the vicinity about Fort 
Kearney, Nebraska, where the two wayfarers of the East 
of whom I have spoken, came into our camp, was the 
scene of more desperate fights and wild encounters than 
were ever portrayed by some of the foremost writers of 
fiction. Of course what was typical and characteristic 
of the region about Fort Kearney was typical and char- 
acteristic of points along the other trails. Dodge, 
Kansas, which at that time was more generally known as 
Fort Dodge, was also the scene of many fights and 
savage encounters. The Fort was established there to 
afford protection for the emigrants and pioneers, and 
General Custer, and General Miles, and W. F. Cody, 
more generally known as Buffalo Bill, once made the 
place their headquarters. It was a wild, free life lived 
upon the western plains, but was one of course beset with 
work and hardship and danger. The romance and the 
charm of it all in our American life should never die, be- 
cause it speaks of the vigor of life and of the daring and 
of the individual initiative and hardihood that formed 
the foundation stones of our American civilization. It 
speaks of those who in that early day pre-eminently took 
their own part in the working out of their own salvation 
and that of their country. It speaks of those who got 
close to the source and origin of life and who saw first 

264 



hand the evolutionary processes of a primitive world. 
Primitive indeed. Not primitive in a sense that the land 
when it should be won was uninhabitable, but primitive 
in the sense that it was new and when it should be won 
for civilization, would be the most habitable land upon 
the globe. Primitive in the sense that it developed the 
vigor of life and developed all the hardy, virile quali- 
ties of a great race and that it expressed the newness and 
grandeur of life in its onward and upward march toward 
new and higher and better things. I think of the evolu- 
tionary processes of the world as they have worked out 
from the dawn of creation, or at least so far as we have 
any history of them, more particularly as I think of the 
opening and development of the great West. This is true 
for the reason that the geologists and the scientists tell 
us that this great land of freedom over which I roamed 
in that early day with such a lack of restraint was once a 
land of an entirely different nature and harbored an en- 
tirely different fauna and an entirely different flora from 
that which it harbored at the time of which I am speak- 
ing. They tell us that the great sunlit prairies that were 
so inviting and so romantic and so full of charm when 
we wandered over them were once, so far as the tastes of 
man are concerned, wholly uninviting and wholly de- 
void of charm. They tell us that the immense expanse 
of fertile soil that grew the rosin weed and the sunflower 
and the buffalo grass and the other coarse wild grasses 
that waved over the landscape when we wandered over 
it, and that gave promise of such abundant crops and of 
such wonderful fertility in the days that were to come, 
was at one time a tremendous inland sea that harbored 
immense and uncouth denizens of the deep and that 

255 



formed the congenial home for forms of life that, from 
our present viewpoint, were hideous and uncouth to the 
last degree; and then when the waters subsided and sunk 
away, we are told that still another form of life came 
forth and that the land of North America now in the 
temperate zone that held the mighty and beautiful forms 
of animal life that wandered in such immense herds over 
the prairies when I was there to see, harbored in the 
years that went before, forms of animal life that we now 
find altogether in another hemisphere: camels and 
llamas and elephants and mammoths and mastodons and 
strange, primitive horses thronged in what was known 
as the pleistocene time, practically all over the western 
half of the North American continent. The gravel and 
shales of the ages that are gone hold skeletons and bones 
of these forms of life that came and went in their ap- 
pointed time. 

Wonderful indeed, has been the lifestream upon the 
face of the earth, and wonderful indeed, has been the 
progress of the ages. Rising to its zenith a certain age 
has developed certain forms of life, which in turn became 
extinct and passed away. Their bones molder in the soil 
of the centuries and new forms of life higher in the scale 
of evolution spring up where they have taken their part 
and have gone. Thus it is to-day that I view in thought 
the plains of the Great West and contemplate the de- 
velopment of life upon the continent through the ages. 
Evolution indeed, from the lowest protozoan, and from 
the simplest single cell there has been evolved upon the 
face of the earth immense and uncouth forms of life 
which in turn have given rise to more graceful and more 



2"56 



beautiful forms that have peopled the earth during the 
period that it has been given men to live upon the face 
of the globe. Strange, indeed, that all should have come 
forth in its appointed time. When man has been de- 
veloped upon the earth things needful for man have 
come forth to be used and taken by him at his sweet 
pleasure. The forms of animal life and of vegetable life 
are adapted to his use and benefit and the ages that have 
gone have underlaid the earth with coal and minerals 
for his use and benefit. All has gone on through the 
unthinkable periods of time that have elapsed since the 
dawn of creation, bringing forth the higher types of life 
that tend on and upward toward the things of the spirit. 
From the most gross and most uncouth material forms 
the higher and most graceful have been brought forth to 
take their place in the world in the upward march that 
leads on toward the higher and better things. This, of 
course, is evolution from the scientific standpoint. The 
minister of the gospel might deny that these higher 
forms have evolved from these lower forms, and he 
would deny that human form has ever had any connec- 
tion with the lower animal forms, and he will assert that 
it is the product alone of a special creation. And this 
point I would not argue with him, for as to its truth one 
way or another, I do not profess to know. Like the 
things of my own life of which I have told you, it is not 
capable of proof either one way or another. In either 
event it points toward a Creator or a Supreme Being and 
an Infinity which has given rise to all of the things that 
we see and know but which we cannot grasp and which 
we cannot comprehend. Scientists of course, to a cer- 
tain extent, claim to have established the connection be- 

257 



tween the lower forms of animal life and the forms of 
human life, but their proof, it seems to me, is incom- 
plete and inadequate, just as the attempted proof on the 
part of the minister that human life has no connection at 
all with these lower forms is incomplete and inadequate. 
But the great mystery of human life goes on and ever on, 

But to return to my story of my trip over the Santa 
Fe Trail. I have said that that time was the beginning of 
civilization upon the western half of the American con- 
tinent and that it was the laying of the foundations of 
that civilization in the principles of vigor and hardihood 
and self-reliance. And I spoke of it and of my own ex- 
perience on this trail and in the western half of the con- 
tinent more particularly for the reason that these experi- 
ences show why I have arrived at the conclusion that I 
have arrived at in regard to the best methods of making 
progress in the world, and why these conclusions have 
been fairly burned upon my soul. 

I have spoken of the nature of the land and of the 
animals and human beings that inhabited it when I 
traveled over it at that early day, and I trust you will 
pardon me if I speak a little more in detail of those 
things. Truly the great West, so far as the evolution of 
the animal species that have inhabited the globe, is con- 
cerned, had come into its own when I traveled over the 
Santa Fe Trail. The buffalo of course thronged all over 
the southwestern plains in unnumbered millions. It has 
been estimated by General Sheridan that over a hundred 
million of the shaggy beasts were in the country between 
Dodge, Kansas, and Fort Supply, Oklahoma, when the 
General was at Fort Dodge for the purpose of protecting 
the emigrants against the Indians. What havoc was 

258 



made in the buffalo herds by the advent of civilization, of 
course is well known. It has also been estimated that 
during the first winter after the Santa Fe Railroad 
reached Dodge, Kansas, that two hundred thousand 
hides were shipped eastward over the railway, and that 
two hundred cars of hind quarters also went out over the 
line to the eastern part of the country, and that two car- 
loads of buffalo tongues were also shipped eastward. 
The slaughter was wanton and unreasonable. These 
facts that I am citing and the remarks that I am making 
in regard to the destruction of the buffalo, which ac- 
cording to historians was practically completed in 
twenty years from the time that I made the trip west- 
ward over the Santa Fe Trail, constitutes something that 
is more or less in the nature of a lament. 

But I am speaking of these things also to show that 
at the time that I made the trip, all things combined to 
make my sojourn one of great freedom and tremendous 
interest. Such sojourns of course will never be made 
again in this or any other country upon the globe. Such 
unrestrained freedom and such independence perhaps 
will never again be known. And more than that, I am 
speaking of these things for the reason that they, like 
most of the other things of which I have been speaking in 
this story, speak of spiritual values. The great outing 
and the splendid and inspiring vacation that I had on the 
Santa Fe Trail was not simply a release from work and 
the confines of civilization, but it was something that 
spoke of the things of the spirit. 

I have spoken of the understanding of life that Job 
had when he was enabled to say: "Now mine eye seeth 
Thee" and I have spoken of how these things, at least, 

259 



according to my interpretation, were revealed to him 
through the tangible, physical objects of Nature in the 
outdoor world. And in much the same way, though of 
course to a much more limited extent, these things, I 
always like to believe, were revealed to me, or were at 
least found by me on my trips west across the plains. 

Mr. Roosevelt, as no other man of his time, had this 
understanding of these spiritual values. He has been 
criticised greatly by business men and closet theorists for 
his trips into the wilderness and for his time spent in the 
hunting of big game, but these things to me at least, 
have revealed the greatest and best feature of the char- 
acter of the man. They point to his more profound un- 
derstanding of life than is had by the business men and 
the closet theorists who have thus criticised him. No- 
where in the world has there been a better expression of 
appreciation of the evolutionary processes and of 
spiritual values revealed through the world of Nature, 
than is contained in the introduction to Mr. Roosevelt's 
African Book. If you will permit me, I will read it to 
you. 

" *I speak of Africa and golden joys;' the joy of wan- 
dering through lonely lands; the joy of hunting the 
mighty and terrible lords of the wilderness, the cunning, 
the wary, and the grim. 

"In these greatest of the world's great hunting 
grounds there are mountain peaks whose snows are 
dazzling under the equatorial sun; swamps where the 
slime oozes and bubbles and festers in the steaming heat; 
lakes like seas; skies that burn above deserts where the 
iron desolation is shrouded from view by the wavering 
mockery of the mirage; vast grassy plains where palms 

260 



and thorny trees fringe the dwindling streams; mighty 
rivers rushing out of the heart of the continent through 
the sadness of endless marshes; forests of gorgeous 
beauty, where death broods in the dark and silent depths. 

"There are regions as healthy as the northland; and 
other regions, radiant with bright-hued flowers, birds and 
butterflies, odorous with sweet and heavy scents, but, 
treacherous in their beauty, and sinister to human life. 
On the land and in the water there are dread brutes that 
feed on the flesh of man; and among the lower things 
that crawl, and fly, and sting, and bite, he finds swarm- 
ing foes far more evil and deadly than any beast or 
reptile; foes that kill his crops and his cattle, foes before 
which he himself perishes in his hundreds and thou- 
sands. 

"The dark-skinned races that live in the land vary 
widely. Some are warlike, cattle-owning nomads; some 
till the soil and live in thatched huts shaped like bee- 
hives; some are fisherfolk; some are ape-like naked 
savages, who dwell in the woods and prey on creatures 
not much wilder or lower than themselves. 

"The land teems with beasts of the chase, infinite in 
number and incredible in variety. It holds the fiercest 
beasts of ravin, and the fleetest and most timid of those 
beings that live in undying fear of talon and fang. It 
holds the largest and the smallest of hoofed animals. It 
holds the mightiest creatures that tread the earth or 
swim in its rivers; it also holds the distant kinsfolk of 
these same creatures, no bigger than wood-chucks, 
which dwell in crannies of the rocks, and in the tree tops. 
There are antelope smaller than hares, and antelope 
larger than oxen. There are creatures which are the 

261 



embodiment of grace; and others whose ungainliness is 
like that of a shape in a nightmare. The plains are alive 
with droves of strange and beautiful animals whose like 
is not known elsewhere; and with others even stranger 
that show both in form and temper something of the fan- 
tastic and the grotesque. It is a never-ending pleasure to 
gaze at the great herds of buck as they move to and fro 
in their myriads; as they stand for their noontide rest in 
the quivering heat haze; as the long files come down to 
drink at the watering-places; as they feed and fight and 
rest and make love. 

"The hunter who wanders through these lands sees 
sights which ever afterward remain fixed in his mind. 
He sees the monstrous river-horse snorting and plung- 
ing beside the boat; the giraffe looking over the tree 
tops at the nearing horseman; the ostrich fleeing at a 
speed that none may rival; the snarling leopard and 
coiled python, with their lethal beauty; the zebras, bark- 
ing in the moonlight, as the laden caravan passes on its 
night march through a thirsty land. In after years there 
shall come to him memories of the lion's charge; of the 
gray bulk of the elephant, close at hand in the sombre 
woodland; of the buffalo, his sullen eyes lowering from 
under his helmet of horn; of the rhinoceros, truculent, 
and stupid, standing in the bright sunlight on the empty 
plain. 

"These things can be told. But there are not words 
that can tell the hidden spirit of the wilderness, that can 
reveal its mystery, its melancholy, and its charm. There 
is delight in the hardy life of the open, in long rides 
rifle in hand, in the thrill of the fight with dangerous 
game. Apart from this, yet mingled with it, is the strong 

262 



attraction of the silent places, of the large tropic moons, 
and the splendor of the new stars; where the wanderer 
sees the awful glory of sunrise and sunset in the wide 
waste spaces of the earth, unworn of man, and changed 
only by the slow change of the ages through time ever- 
lasting." 

These words are the expression of a mighty life lived 
grandly and exultantly. They are the words of a physi- 
cal and mental giant, glorying in the physical, primitive 
world. They are the words of one who loved life and 
lived it mightily and who never shrank from death be- 
cause of his faith in the things of the spirit. 



063 



CHAPTER XX. 

XHAVE said that there has been within the last few 
years in America, two schools of thought, and that 
one has been led by Mr. Roosevelt and the other by 
President Wilson. I have spoken somewhat at length 
of the wide divergence of views of these schools as re- 
gards the questions of peace and war, but I believe I 
have not yet contrasted them as regards their spiritual 
appreciation and understanding of life as revealed by 
the things of the outdoor world. I have said that I be- 
lieve in both things material and things spiritual, and I 
might add that it seems to me that there is a curious in- 
termingling of things spiritual and things material in the 
world in which we are living and that we can scarcely 
discern where things spiritual begin and where things 
material end. Nowhere is this better shown than in the 
Book of Job, and in the Psalms, to which I have briefly 
referred. And nowhere has it been better exemplified 
in modern times than by the life and writings of Mr. 
Roosevelt. Mr. Wilson, on the other hand, represents 
entirely the things of the indoor world. He is a product 
of the office, the library and the classroom. He has 
nothing in common with men who work on the soil. Mr. 
Roosevelt, on the contrary, had much in common with 
all of them. His great vigor of life took him into nearly 
all the different fields of labor and toil and his appre- 
ciation and understanding of them was profound. And 

264 



yet he was ridiculed and contemptuously snubbed by the 
professor who speaks only as the result of theories and 
only as the result of the knowledge gained from books 
and classrooms. The idea seems absurd. The American 
people seem to have become insensible of a proper ap- 
preciation of character in the world to-day. 

I might suggest that this failure to appreciate true 
worth and true merit has been brought about almost 
wholly by fear. It has been fear of war and the slogan 
of Wilson and his supporters that he would keep us out 
of war, that caused the people to flock for a time at 
least, to his standard. Reason has been cast aside and 
thrown to the winds. Judgment has been frittered away. 
Fear has reigned supreme. And not only has it caused 
the American people to fail to properly appreciate true 
worth and true merit, but it has caused them to fail 
miserably in their appreciation and understanding of 
spiritual values. Pacifism in the name of spiritual truth 
is almost always a pretense and a fraud. The pacifists 
hide behind the bulwarks of those who go forth and 
fight their country's battles and reap the benefits there- 
from while professing to be spiritually deep and spirit- 
ually profound, when as a matter of fact, they merit only 
the scorn and contempt of those who really appreciate 
and understand true spiritual truth and spiritual values. 

But I am again wandering far from the subject which 
but a few moments ago I set out to discuss. I said that 
Mr. Roosevelt had to a greater extent than any other per- 
son of his time, an appreciation of spiritual truth as re- 
vealed by the physical objects of Nature and the out- 
door world. And I have said, or at least have suggested, 
that Mr. Wilson has perhaps less of this understanding 

2fi5 



and this appreciation than any other person of his time. 
My thought is that we should get back to Nature, that 
we should return to simpler and better things. Our 
civilization to-day is a vast and complex affair. It is so 
vast and so complex as to drive from men's minds the 
understanding of life that the Psalmist had and that Job 
had when the things that were written of and told of by 
them were written and told. Our civilization in America 
during the past few years leading up to the great war 
has been a tremendous era of commercial prosperity. 
It has been unprecedented in the history of the world, 
but it to a very great extent led men away from the 
things of the spirit. The things of the soul had been 
relegated to the background. The great war in a large 
measure called us back and gave us a better understand- 
ing of these things, but we are fast returning again to the 
conditions that prevailed before the war and this cannot 
go on and our people prosper as they should prosper. 

"What shall it profit a man if he gain the whole 
world and lose his own soul?" This is the question that 
should be put to America to-day. It is the question that 
should be written deep upon the minds and hearts of the 
American people. It is the question that should be kept 
everywhere in view. And will this question best be 
answered by Wilson and by Daniels and by Ford, or 
would it best have been answered by Mr. Roosevelt had 
he lived and had he been permitted to continue the work 
which he had during his lifetime been so actively en- 
gaged in? What will the American people do? Will 
they follow the pacifists, the pretenders and the frauds, 
or will they follow men who understand as the Psalmist 
and as Job understood, and who are willing to fight for 

26« 



the things which they understand and appreciate? 
Which will America do? Will it lead the world in the 
paths pointed out by Wilson and Daniels and Ford, or 
will it follow in the paths where Roosevelt blazed the 
way? 

Mr. Roosevelt has written another very wonderful 
article which perhaps sums up in brief and concise form 
all of the principles for which I have been contending in 
this story, and which should be placed on a par with the 
Battle Hymn of the Republic, and all the heroic verse 
and prose that has been written to fire the hearts and 
souls of men since the beginning of time. It is entitled: 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE, and it is as follows: 

"Only those are fit to live who do not fear to die; and 
none are fit to die who have shrunk from the joy of life 
and the duty of life. Both life and death are parts of 
the same Great Adventure. Never yet was worthy ad- 
venture worthily carried through by the man who put 
his personal safety first. Never yet was a country worth 
living in unless its sons and daughters were of that stern 
stuff which bade them die for it at need; and never 
yet was a country worth dying for unless its sons and 
daughters thought of life not as something concerned 
only with the selfish evanescence of the individual but as 
a link in the great chain of creation and causation so 
that each person is seen in his true relations as an essen- 
tial part of the whole, whose life must be made to serve 
the larger and continuing life of the whole. Therefore 
it is that the man who is not willing to die, and the 
woman who is not willing to send her man to die in a 
war for a great cause, are not worthy to live. There- 
fore it is that the man and the woman who in peace time 

267 



fear or ignore the primary and vital duties and the 
high happiness of family life, who dare not beget and 
bear and rear the life that is to last when they are in their 
graves, have broken the chain of creation, and have 
shown that they are unfit for companionship with the 
souls ready for the Great Adventure. 

"The wife of a fighting soldier at the front recently 
wrote as follows to the mother of a gallant boy, who at 
the front had fought in high air like an eagle, and, like 
an eagle, fighting had died: 'I write these few lines — 
not of condolence for who would dare to pity you? — but 
of deepest sympathy to you and yours as you stand in 
the shadow which is the earthy side of those clouds of 
glory in which your son's life has just passed. Many 
will envy you that when the call to sacrifice came you 
were not found among the paupers to whom no gift of 
life worth offering had been entrusted. They are the 
ones to be pitied, not we whose dearest are jeoparding 
their lives unto the death in the high places of the field. 
I hope my two sons will live as worthily and die as 
greatly as yours.' 

"There spoke one dauntless soul to another! America 
is safe while her daughters are of this kind; for their 
lovers and their sons cannot fail, as long as beside the 
hearthstones stand such wives and mothers. And we 
have many, many such women; and their men are like 
unto them. 

"With all my heart I believe in the joy of living; but 
those who achieve it do not seek it as an end in itself, 
but as a seized and prized incident of hard work well 
done and of risk and danger never wantonly courted 
but never shirked when duty commands that they be 

26 S 



faced. And those who have earned joy, but are re- 
warded only with sorrow, must learn the stern comfort 
dear to great souls, the comfort that springs from the 
knowledge taught in times of iron that the law of worthy 
living is not fulfilled by pleasure, but by service, and by 
sacrifice when only thereby can service be rendered. 

"No nation can be great unless its sons and daugh- 
ters have in them the quality to rise level to the needs of 
heroic days. Yet this heroic quality is but the apex of a 
pyramid of which the broad foundations must solidly 
rest on the performance of duties so ordinary that to im- 
patient minds they seem commonplace. No army was 
ever great unless its soldiers possessed the fighting edge. 
But the finest natural fighting edge is utterly useless un- 
less the soldiers and the junior officers have been through 
months, and the officers of higher command and the 
general staff through years, of hard, weary, intensive 
training. So likewise the citizenship of any country is 
worthless unless in a crisis it shows the spirit of the two 
million Americans who in this mighty war have eagerly 
come forward to serve under the Banner of the Stars, 
afloat and ashore, and of the other millions who would 
now be beside them over seas if the chance had been 
given them; and yet such spirit will in the long run avail 
nothing unless in the years of peace the average man and 
the average woman of the duty-performing type realize 
that the highest of all duties, the one essential duty, is 
the duty of perpetuating the family life, based on the 
mutual love and respect of the one man and the one 
woman and on their purpose to rear the healthy and 
fine-souled children whose coming into life means that 



2m 



the family and therefore the nation shall continue in life 
and shall not end in a sterile death. 

"Woe to those who invite a sterile death; a death not 
for them only, but for the race; the death which is en- 
sured by a life of sterile selfishness. 

"But honor, highest honor, to those who fearlessly 
face death for a good cause; no life is so honorable or 
so fruitful as such a death. Unless men are willing to 
fight and die for great ideals, including love of country, 
ideals will vanish, and the world will become one huge 
sty of materialism. And unless the women of ideals 
bring forth the men who are ready thus to live and die, 
the world of the future will be filled by the spawn of the 
unfit. Alone of human beings the good and wise mother 
stands on a plane of equal honor with the bravest 
soldier; for she has gladly gone down to the brink of the 
chasm of darkness to bring back the children in whose 
hands rests the future of the years. But the mother, 
and far more the father, who flinch from the vital task 
earn the scorn visited on the soldier who flinches in 
battle. And the nation should by action mark its atti- 
tude alike toward the fighter in war and toward the 
child-bearer in peace and war. The vital need of the 
nation is that its men and women of the future shall be 
the sons and daughters of the soldiers of the present. 
Excuse no man from going to war because he is mar- 
ried; but put all unmarried men above a fixed age at the 
hardest and most dangerous tasks; and provide amply 
for the children of soldiers, so as to give their wives the 
assurance of material safety. 

"In such a matter one can only speak in general 
terms. At this moment there are hundreds of thousands 

270 



of gallant men eating out their hearts because the 
privilege of facing death in battle is denied them. So 
there are innumerable women and men whose unde- 
served misfortune it is that they have no children or but 
one child. These soldiers denied the perilous honor they 
seek, these men and women heart-hungry for the chil- 
dren of their longing dreams, are as worthy of honor as 
the men who are warriors in fact, as the women whose 
children are of flesh and blood. If the only son who is 
killed at the front has no brother because his parents 
coldly dreaded to play their part in the Great Adventure 
of Life, then our sorrow is not for them, but solely for 
the son who himself dared the Great Adventure of 
Death. If, however, he is the only son because the Un- 
seen Powers denied others to the love of his father and 
mother, then we mourn doubly with them because their 
darling went up to the sword of Azrael, because he drank 
the dark drink proffered by the Death Angel. 

"In America to-day all our people are summoned to 
service and sacrifice. Pride is the portion only of those 
who know bitter sorrow or the foreboding of bitter 
sorrow. But all of us who give service, and stand ready 
for sacrifice, are the torch-bearers. We run with the 
torches until we fall, content if we can then pass them 
to the hands of other runners. The torches whose flame 
is brightest are borne by the gallant men at the front, 
and by the gallant women whose husbands and lovers, 
whose sons and brothers are at the front. These men 
are high of soul, as they face their fate on the shell- 
shattered earth, or in the skies above or in the waters 
beneath; and no less high of soul are the women with 
torn hearts and shining eyes; the girls whose boy lovers 

271 



have been struck down in their golden morning, and the 
mothers and wives to whom the word has been brought 
that henceforth they must walk in the shadow. 

"These are the torch-bearers; these are they who have 
dared the Great Adventure." 

Here we find the expression and the revelation of a 
noble and heroic soul. There is no prattle in these 
words about being "too proud to fight", and no imbecile 
statements about being "so right as that it will never be 
necessary to fight", or about there being such a thing as 
"peace without victory", and no childish failure to com- 
prehend the true nature of the life that we are living. 
And Mr. Roosevelt offered to pay and his youngest son 
has paid the full price demanded by heroism and they 
each have given that great measure of devotion to a cause 
of which Lincoln spoke when he said that we should 
"here highly resolve that these honored dead shall not 
have died in vain, and that government of the people, by 
the people, and for the people should not perish from 
the earth". And we in America should to-day highly 
resolve that these honored dead of which the two Roose- 
velts were typical, should not have died in vain. We 
should here highly resolve that "this country under God" 
shall have a new birth of freedom and that the liberty 
referred to in the Gettysburg speech shall be carried on 
and on and kept inviolable for succeeding generations. 

But to return to my story. Joe Burgess and John 
Randolph and I continued on our journey over the Santa 
Fe Trail until we reached the site of Bent's Fort in what 
is now the State of Colorado, situated between the pres- 
ent town of Las Animas and La Junta. Bent's Fort was 
a famous fort and trading post in the early days, having 

272 



been established by one of the Bent Brothers who about 
the same time had established a line of trading posts 
from that point west along the Arkansas River to the 
vicinity of the present site of Pueblo, Colorado. It is 
quite a historic point, the army of the West having 
passed by the Fort in 1846 under the command of Gen- 
eral Kearney on its way to take the City of Santa Fe at 
the time of the Mexican War. Also it was in that vicinity 
that Zebulon Montgomery Pike obtained his first view of 
the famous peak near Colorado Springs which now 
bears his name. However, the Fort itself had been de- 
stroyed before we reached it, having been demolished in 
1852 for the reason that the Government of the United 
States would not pay the price that was demanded for it. 
A halfbreed son of one of these founders of the fort and 
trading post, after obtaining a fairly good education in 
St. Louis, returned to the plains and at the head of bands 
of Indians, waged unrelenting and merciless war against 
the whites for a considerable time along the south- 
western frontier. 

The caravan proceeded on to Santa Fe, but my 
friends and I went no farther than the site of Bent's 
Fort. After remaining for several days in that vicinity, 
we set out on the return journey. We proceeded south- 
eastward into the region between the Arkansas and 
Canadian Rivers. After several days' travel we gradually 
left behind us the forbidding rocks and cliffs and sandy 
wastes of the Arkansas valley and entered upon a land 
of green trees and grass. Game abounded throughout 
all the region through which we were now traveling. The 
buffalo were more numerous than we had found them 
on the Platte the year before, and as we continued east- 

273 



ward and our way was more and more beset with bushes 
and shrubs and trees, deer became plentiful and an oc- 
casional bear was seen. Wild turkeys were also con- 
stantly in evidence and a new kind of game, if such it 
might be called, also attracted our attention. This new 
species was none other than that of the wild horse. 
Some splendid animals were occasionally seen and we 
made every effort to capture one but without success. 
One day we gave chase to a black stallion that came to 
a little stream to drink, a quarter of a mile from our 
camp. Far over the rolling, grassy openings among the 
trees we chased the gallant steed. As we ascended the 
gentle slopes and swooped down the undulating inclines, 
we started buffalo from their day dreams, sent wolves 
scurrying here and there and deer and turkeys from the 
thickets. The grassy land extended over the low hills 
and wide sweep of prairie lands as in a meadow and as 
though planted by the hand of a landscape artist. The 
whole region through which we were racing seemed as a 
gigantic park full of game and beautiful trees and grass, 
yet not a human being was to be seen. It was a land 
prodigal of those things that delight the hunter's eye. 
At last we gave up the chase of the wild horse. We 
watched him with streaming mane and tail as he 
stretched away over a hilltop and disappeared. Then 
turning our horses' heads, we started for our camp. 

The nights were glorious and from our camps in the 
deep shadows of the trees we looked up at the wonder- 
ful galaxy of stars. Sparkling in the vast abyss of the 
night sky the shining orbs proclaimed the glory of God 
and the firmament exhibited His handiwork. 

Joe Burgess and I spent many a silent hour about the 

274 



nightly campfire enjoying the simplicity of our life, of 
the hunting the wild game, and of broiling it over the 
coals for our repasts. We felt the wholesome joy of liv- 
ing on the ground, of sleeping on it, of looking from our 
blankets through the tree tops to the stars, and of know- 
ing that we were advancing on the road to knowledge. 
We contemplated, the many twinkling stars and thought 
how grand that knowledge in its perfection must be and 
how wonderful the love and the faith that must rule in 
the realm of the spirit. 

Slowly we continued on our way. It was late when 
we arrived at my Uncle's home. The season was far ad- 
vanced and the chill winds were blowing among the 
autumn leaves. 

I sat on a bear skin in the log house and looked out 
at the gray skies and the scurrying clouds. Somehow I 
felt that my youth had gone, that I was no longer young 
as I had formerly always considered myself. The 
brown leaves, the withered grass and gray skies were 
much in keeping with my serious reflections. "My youth 
has gone", I said to myself. "I have spent it in getting 
hold of life, but what matters it, what matters anything 
if I can in truth get hold." 



275 



CHAPTER XXI. 

XN the story that I have been telling, of course I 
have been speaking much of Roosevelt and have 
been holding him up as the great ideal and the 
great example. I do this for the reason that his life 
embodied all of the things for which I have been con- 
tending. His life embodied all of the great glory of life 
that comes from the vigor of life and combined with it 
an appreciation of and a firm adherence to moral prin- 
ciple. Duty was of course his watchword, and that 
which received his first attention. 

I have spoken of his love for and appreciation of the 
things of nature and the outdoor world, but I do not 
wish to any extent to convey the idea that these things 
detracted in any way from his devotion to duty and his 
observation of the serious things of life. All the world 
of course knows that these more serious things received 
his first attention, and yet where in all the world's 
history will we find one who was more buoyant, more 
full of the great joy of living and more appreciative of 
the splendor and joy of life, as well as the duty of life? 

In the article entitled THE GREAT ADVENTURE, 
which I have quoted, he has himself said that "none are 
fit to die who have shrunk from the joy of life and the 
duty of life." And in the same article he has also said: 
"With all my heart I believe in the joy of living; but 
those who achieve it do not seek it as an end in itself, 

276 



but as a seized and prized incident of hard work, well 
done, and of risk and danger never wantonly courted, 
but never shirked when duty commands that they be 
faced." 

Thus it is that I point to his life as the supreme ex- 
ponent and example of the things for which I have been 
contending, the things of the spirit on the one hand, and 
the things material on the other, and the things of joy 
on the one hand, and the things of hard work and duty 
on the other. The balance that should be maintained 
in regard to these different fields of endeavor and these 
different fields of experience has been maintained by him 
better than by any one of whom I have ever read or 
whom I have ever known. The balance that should be 
maintained in a person's life in regard to the things of 
primeval Nature and the things of civilization has also 
thus been maintained by him. The vigor of life of 
course in his career has been perhaps the pre-eminent 
and most outstanding feature of his life. And this in the 
face of the fact that he was born a weakling and fought 
his way under this handicap to the most wonderful speci- 
men of physical and mental strength perhaps that the 
world has ever known. And this in the brief space of 
but a comparatively few years. He was inaugurated 
president of the United States when he was forty-two 
years of age, the youngest president we have ever had, 
and he was not only president at that time, but he was the 
author of many books which had won him distinction at 
home and abroad. He had become a Colonel in the 
Spanish War; had been Assistant Secretary of the Navy 
and Governor of New York, aside from the service ren- 
dered by him as Civil Service Commissioner and as 

277 



member of the New York Legislature. Abounding and 
tremendous vigor of life were his, such as had never 
been the portion of any man. I make the statement ad- 
visedly, for to whom can you point in this day, or in any 
other, that was his equal in this respect? It has been 
said of Julius Caesar that "seven letters he could dictate 
at once, at the same time writing his memoirs". But 
even this accomplishment, if it were true, has not served 
to demonstrate to posterity that Caesar was as versatile 
or as quick of comprehension, or as capable in as many 
different fields as was the young American president. 
Many great generals the world has produced, and many 
great authors, and many great statesmen, which un- 
doubtedly the world would say in their own particular 
fields have surpassed Roosevelt in ability, and perhaps 
in capacity, but I challenge history to produce a single 
character who has been as proficient as he has been in 
as many different fields at the same time. 

And above all other things, he was a leader, an execu- 
tive and an example to mankind. He did not wait for 
the people to formulate opinions and arrive at conclu- 
sions and then strive to follow them. He did not seek to 
first ascertain whether his action might be popular be- 
fore beginning a certain course of action, but he always 
blazed the way. In these things he was truly great. I 
have always considered him a great man. I hear 
others spoken of to-day as being great, and hear this or 
that particular person in the public eye spoken of as a 
great man. Of course there are many different ideas as 
to what constitutes greatness, but to my mind one of the 
pre-eminent tests of greatness is the test of whether the 
particular person spoken of has the moral courage to 

278 



stand alone. Greatness all through the history of the 
world, to my mind has for the most part been embodied 
in those whose moral fiber was such as that against the 
whole world, if need be, when questions of right and 
wrong and not mere selfishness were involved, they could 
remain unshaken and undisturbed in the courage of their 
own convictions. From one point of view at least, this 
was true of the one great teacher of the world. The 
multitude thronged about him and cried "Crucify him", 
but he remained unmoved, serene in the faith and 
knowledge that his own life and the principles for which 
he stood were true. It has been true of martyrs from 
that time until this. Lowell has expressed the thought 
in the words: 

"Truth forever on the scaffold, 
Wrong forever on the throne, 
Yet that scaffold sways the future, 
And behind the dim unknown, 
Standeth God within the shadow, 
Keeping watch above His own." 

And thus it is that Roosevelt at the outbreak of the 
great war preached preparedness and in scathing terms 
denounced the monsters of Germany and called upon 
our people to go to the defense and the aid of Belgium, 
but our people remained unmoved. In the face of over- 
whelming popular opposition he advocated action on the 
part of our government on behalf of those who had been 
cruelly wronged, and on behalf of those upon whom in- 
justice had been outrageously inflicted. Now, when the 
issues have been made clear, there has been an attempt 
to prove that he himself at that time advocated neutral- 



279 



ity, but the record gives the lie to those who are mak- 
ing the attempt. As early as the 8th of November, 1914, 
in an article in the New York Times, and which I now 
quote from the Outlook, in speaking of certain articles 
of The Hague Conventions, he said: 

"If these articles do not forbid the levying of such 
sums as forty million dollars from Brussels and ninety 
million dollars from the Province of Brabant, then the 
articles are absolutely meaningless." And he adds, as 
regards Articles 43 and 50, which forbid the collection of 
a general penalty for the acts of individuals : 

"Either this prohibition is meaningless or it prohibits 
just such acts as the punitive destruction of Vise, Lou- 
vain, Aerschot, and Dinant." 

"Now, it may be," continues Mr. Roosevelt, "that 
there is an explanation and justification for a portion of 
what has been done. But if The Hague conventions mean 
anything, and if bad faith in the observance of treaties 
is not to be treated with cynical indifference, then the 
United States Government should inform itself as to the 
facts and should at least put itself on record in refer- 
ence thereto. The extent to which the action should go 
may properly be a subject for discussion. But that there 
should be some action is beyond discussion, unless, in- 
deed, we ourselves are content to take the view that 
treaties, conventions, and international engagements and 
agreements of all kinds are to be treated by us and by 
everybody else as what they have been authoritatively 
declared to be, 'scraps of paper' ". 

His action and his arguments in this country were 
everywhere unpopular. He was denounced as a mili- 
tarist seeking blood and war, but he had the courage of 

280 



his convictions and denounced those who advocated neu- 
trality as being on the same plane with Pontius Pilate, 
the arch neutral of all time. Greatness indeed. What 
constitutes greatness? Is it the ability to cajole and 
flatter and conciliate wrong and injustice? Is it the 
ability to seek out the popular side and to ally oneself 
with that side? Or is it the ability and the determina- 
tion to seek justice and right, though the Heavens fall in 
making the attempt? 

Another characteristic which you may think does not 
necessarily constitute greatness, but which undoubtedly 
often (and I might say generally) accompanies true 
greatness is love of and appreciation of Nature. We 
have had great men in America. We have had Wash- 
ington and Lincoln and Roosevelt. And I might add 
that we have had Grover Cleveland. And one of the 
characteristic features of the character of the lives of all 
of these men, unless perhaps it was the life of Lincoln, 
has been the love of Nature and the outdoor world. 
With Washington this love was a passion and his 
sweetest experiences and his greatest content came from 
fox hunting with his friend Lord Fairfax, and from at- 
tending to the planting of trees and plants and shrubs 
upon his estate at Mount Vernon. Nature played a great 
and wholesome part in his life as it does in the life of 
nearly every man who is truly great and who is truly 
well balanced. It played such a part in the life of Web- 
ster and in the lives of practically all great Americans 
who have become enshrined in the hearts of our country- 
men. In Roosevelt of course this feature was developed 
to a greater degree perhaps than it was in the lives of any 
of the others. And I admired it not only for the reason 

281 



that it is a feature of his life that, affords pleasure to 
contemplate and not only because it afforded pleasure to 
him, and because the love of Nature affords pleasure to 
others, but also because it reveals the true secrets of life 
and its study gives information as to the methods of 
making progress in the world. Witness Mr. Roosevelt's 
words in the article entitled THE GREAT ADVEN- 
TURE: 

"Woe to those who invite a sterile death; a death not 
for them only, but for the race; the death which is in- 
sured by a life of sterile selfishness. * * * And unless the 
women of ideals bring forth the men who are ready thus 
to live and die, the world of the future will be filled by 
the spawn of the unfit. Alone of human beings the 
good and wise mother stands on a plane of equal honor 
with the bravest soldier; for she has gladly gone down 
to the brink of the chasm of darkness to bring back the 
children in whose hands rests the future of the years. * * * 
All of us who give service and stand ready for sacrifice, 
are the torch-bearers. We run with the torches until 
we fall, content if we can then pass them to the hands of 
other runners. The torches whose flame is brightest are 
borne by the gallant men at the front and by the gallant 
women whose husbands and lovers, whose sons and 
brothers are at the front. These men are high of soul, 
as they face their fate on the shell-shattered earth, or in 
the sky above or in the waters beneath; and no less high 
of soul are the women with torn hearts and shining eyes; 
the girls whose boy lovers have been struck down in their 
golden morning, and the mothers and wives to whom 
word has been brought that henceforth they must walk 



282 



in the shadow. These are the torch-bearers; these are 
they who have dared The Great Adventure." . 

These words show how in his mind were intimately 
bound together and were inseparably associated the 
great principles of Nature in bringing forth and in repro- 
ducing and in perpetuating the life stream that keeps 
marching on in the physical world, with the idea of 
combat and struggle in order that the life stream might 
go on and up. And in this struggle he himself took a 
wonderful and a glorious part. "We are", he said, "the 
torch-bearers. We run with the torches until we fall, 
content if we can pass them to the hands of other run- 
ners". And surely no man in the history of the world 
ever ran better or carried the torch higher than did he. 
Surely he was truly great and surely we are remiss in 
our duty to-day if we do not take up the torch which has 
fallen from his hands, and if we do not bear it high so 
that all the world may see. Thus it is that I speak of 
Roosevelt in my story, and thus it is that I have com- 
bined with these remarks concerning him, and with the 
story of my quest for the hand of Julia King, my re- 
marks and observations upon the great war and the up- 
ward struggle of human kind. Thus it is that as Roose- 
velt has combined in his article entitled THE GREAT 
ADVENTURE, the things of the individual and the 
things of family life, in bringing forth and perpetuat- 
ing a strong and vigorous race, with the things of nations 
and the battlefield, so I have attempted to combine these 
things in my story. For in the ultimate analysis, they 
are in fact, as we know them in the world to-day, in- 
separably combined and inseparably united. The torch- 
bearers are in the home and in the family life no less 

283 



than on the battlefield. And it is our duty to carry the 
torches wisely and well. 

Nature is still the great mother of the race, and 
Nature's laws must still be obeyed. And Nature's laws 
are still harsh and inexorable and the weak still have 
an unequal struggle and the strong still go forth and be- 
come supreme. In the life that I have lived, I have as 
yet seen no relaxation of these laws. According to my 
observations, they remain unchanged. Christian Scien- 
tists of course profess to ignore them, profess to ignore 
heredity and all the evolutionary principles in the physi- 
cal, tangible world, but it has been my observation that 
these things are as potent, as powerful, as driving, and as 
inexorable as they ever were in the history of the world. 
The great effort is to get away from these laws and these 
institutions, but they will best be gotten away from by 
carrying them out and observing them to the very letter. 
Only thus will "the great chain of creation and causa- 
tion" be followed out to its ultimate destiny. 

But I have been speaking of the vigor of life and of 
its great exponent here in America. I have been speak- 
ing of the life lived in the mountains and on the plains, 
in the great forests and along the great rivers, and of the 
life which derived from these things of Nature inspira- 
tion and health and strength and moral and spiritual 
food for the sustenance required for the great turmoil 
of public life which surrounded the presidency of a 
great nation. This great exponent of the vigor of life 
has gone to his reward. He has gone out and on, but 
who believes to death and oblivion? Who believes but 
that his spirit goes on and ever on to new and even 
brighter realms of great joy and great activity? To-day 

284 



to us as Americans il seems to me that his great and eager 
spirit says: 

"How dull it is to pause, to make an end, 
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! 
As though to breathe were life. Life piled on life 
Were all too little, * * * and vile it were 
For some three suns to store and hoard myself, 
And this gray spirit yearning in desire 
To follow knowledge like a sinking star 
Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. 

* * * My Mariners, 

Souls that have toil'd, and wrought and thought with me — 

That ever with a frolic welcome took 

The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed 

Free hearts, free foreheads — 

* * * 

Push off, and sitting well in order smite 
The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds 
To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths 
Of all the western stars, until I die." 

To-day we must bid him "goodbye". We must say 
farewell to the great spirit that has passed on and up to 
higher and better realms, but America has been infinitely 
better for his having lived, and America will be infinitely 
better in the future if the ideals he preached and prac- 
ticed are continued to be preached and practiced by 
Americans everywhere. Bolshevism in America to-day 
is a thing that he would not have tolerated were he 
to-day at the helm in American affairs. Bolshevism in 
America to-day is something that we should not tolerate, 
and that we should drive completely from our American 
life. It is intolerable and almost unthinkable that it 
should be here to the extent that it is here to-day. How 
far we have gone from the times when as a young man I 

285 



wandered over the great western prairies and plains! 
How far has been removed our aspirations and our 
ideals! Then we were Americans standing for America 
alone, but to-day we are scarcely any more Americans 
than we are internationalists standing not only for 
America, but for the things and the ideals of nearly every 
nation in the world. Americanism as against interna- 
tionalism is the great issue in America to-day. We have 
before our people internationalism as proposed by the 
league of nations, internationalism as proposed pre- 
eminently by Woodrow Wilson, internationalism as pro- 
posed by the man who appointed a delegation to meet 
and treat with the Bolshevists of Russia on Princes' 
Islands in the sea of Marmora and to compromise with 
them in some way if possible in regard to their nefarious 
outrages; internationalism as proposed by the man who 
appointed as one of these delegates a man who was pre- 
eminently a socialist and perhaps one who believes in 
the doctrines of free love and who was practically 
banished from our own State of Iowa by the force of 
public opinion here. We have internationalism as pro- 
posed by Woodrow Wilson whose policy has ever been, 
while president of the United States, to compromise with 
evil rather than to combat it and strike it down. We 
have internationalism as proposed by Woodrow Wilson 
and Colonel House and Henry Ford. We have interna- 
tionalism as proposed by Woodrow Wilson who sup- 
ported Mr. Ford in his candidacy for the United States 
Senate in the face of statements made by Mr. Ford to the 
effect that he did not believe in patriotism and that 
when the war was over the flags over his buildings would 
come down never to go up again, and who also said in 

286 



substance that he cared no more for an American than 
for a Chinaman or a Hindoo. We have internationalism 
as proposed by Woodrow Wilson who professes to be the 
great exponent of altruism and who in effect condemned 
Mr. Roosevelt as the supreme exponent of selfishness. 

But are we yet ready to surrender Americanism in 
this way? Are we yet ready to abandon the doctrine 
promulgated by James Monroe and are we yet ready to 
abandon entirely the doctrines of Washington and 
Lincoln and Grant? Has the world progressed so far 
and has it attained so near perfection as that the 
American flag can to any extent be hauled down? Have 
the other nations of the earth reached a plane of equality 
with America? If so, then the flag can come safely 
down. But until they have reached the plane of equality 
morally and spiritually, the flag must ever float on high. 
Until they have become as little desirous of acquiring 
territory as we are and until they have become as little 
likely to wrong a neighbor as we are the flag must ever 
be unfurled. Americanism has saved democracy for the 
world, but if internationalism had been in vogue a hun- 
dred years ago, as it is to-day, Americanism that could 
save democracy would not have been in existence at all. 
But the league of nations proposes to-day to very largely 
abandon Americanism. Let its proponents say what 
they will, this is the effect of the league as proposed by 
Mr. Wilson, and he will not suffer it to be modified to any 
extent. But the Senate up to this time at least, has re- 
fused to ratify the treaty and Mr. Wilson has refused to 
submit to the slightest modification thereof. He has con- 
demned the Lodge reservations "as utterly inconsistent 



287 



with the Nation's honor and destructive of the world 
leadership which it had established." 

And he has said : 

"I do not accept the action of the Senate of the United 
States as the decision of the nation. I have asserted 
from the first that the overwhelming majority of the 
people of this country desire ratification of the treaty, 
and my impression to that effect has recently been con- 
firmed by the unmistakable evidence of public opinion 
given during my visit to seventeen of the states." 

And he has called the Senators who have opposed 
ratification "contemptible quitters" and he has said that 
"they have jaundiced eyes; that they are seeking to de- 
stroy one of the first charters of mankind; that they are 
in for a life long reckoning at the hands of the people", 
and that "when at last they are gibbeted, they will regret 
that the gibbet is so high." 

In speaking of these confident statements of the 
President, I am reminded of the telegram sent by thirty- 
eight well known Californians to Senator Johnson call- 
ing upon him to withdraw his opposition to the peace 
treaty. It was in part as follows: "We appeal to you 
to withdraw your opposition. We are confident that in 
this we speak for the overwhelming majority of the 
people of California, and that your present position does 
not represent them truly". But since the sending of the 
telegram a state wide primary has been held in Cali- 
fornia and the overwhelming majority was for John- 
son. Therefore it occurs to me that the President also 
may possibly have been mistaken in his statements in re- 
gard to overwhelming majorities. 

And in Des Moines Mr. Wilson said to us: 

288 



"But do not go away with the impression, I beg you, 
that I think there is any doubt about the issue. The only 
thing that can be accomplished is delay. The ultimate 
outcome will be the triumphant acceptance of the treaty 
and the league. 

"And let me pay the tribute which it is only just that I 
should pay to some of the men who have been, I believe, 
misunderstood in this business. It is only a handful of 
men, my fellow citizens, who are trying to defeat the 
treaty or to prevent the league." 

And he has also said that the only organized! elements 
opposing ratification are the pro German elements and 
others who "showed their hyphen during the war." 

And in New York before he went back to Paris for the 
second time he said: 

"The first thing I am going to tell the people on the 
other side of the water is that an overwhelming majority 
of the American people is in favor of the league of na- 
tions. I know that that is true." 

And there also he said: "No party will in the long 
run dare oppose it." 

And there also he told of the nature of the instru- 
ment that he expected to bring back with him when he 
said: "And when that treaty comes back, gentlemen 
on this side will find the covenant not only in it, but so 
many threads of the treaty tied to the covenant that you 
cannot dissect the covenant from the treaty without de- 
stroying the whole vital structure." 

And his responsibility for having them thus tied to- 
gether is of course well known. And his intention to 
force the Senate to ratify both the treaty and the cove- 



2S9 



nant whether they believed in them both or not is of 
course perfectly apparent. 

And in the same New York speech, in speaking of the 
Senate he said, "I am amazed — not alarmed — but amazed 
that there should be in some quarters such a comprehen- 
sive ignorance of the state of the world." 

And in regard to all these predictions by Mr. Wilson 
that the treaty would be ratified it should be said that he 
of course meant that it would be ratified without reser- 
vations for he has said that we must take it without any 
changes that alter its meaning or that we must reject it 
entirely. 

But in spite of all these confident assertions the 
Republican party in its platform adopted at Chicago has 
endorsed and approved the action of the Senate and the 
question is now before the voters of the nation to deter- 
mine whether they also shall endorse it. 

The Platform recites: "The Senators performed 
their duty faithfully. We approve their conduct and 
honor their courage and fidelity and we pledge the com- 
ing Republican administration to such agreement with 
the other nations of the world as shall meet the full 
duty of America to civilization and humanity in accord- 
ance with American ideals and without surrendering the 
right of the American people to exercise its judgment 
and its power in favor of justice and peace." 

Democrats everywhere have seized upon this state- 
ment in the Republican platform as being indefinite and 
vague, but it is exactly as it should be. We pledge our- 
selves by these words to do the right thing at the time 
when the right thing is demanded and we do not guar- 
antee in advance a certain course of conduct regardless 

290 



of what conditions may arise. But the Democrats in 
order to be definite and in order to "say something" as 
they put it would forever foreclose the right of the 
American people to decide for themselves and at the 
time when the occasion should demand. They would de- 
cide now once and for all what our conduct shall be for 
all time to come. They say the Republicans have 
"straddled" and they profess great scorn for the plat- 
form. But the Republicans like Roosevelt refuse to 
promise in advance when they do not know what condi- 
tions may arise and the Democrats on the other hand 
consider it a mark of great statesmanship to rush to the 
peace table and announce once for all what their con- 
duct shall ever be. Which procedure is sensible, which 
is honest, which is sincere and above all which will pre- 
vent future wars? 

The question is: Shall we follow the Roosevelt 
Americanism or the Wilson internationalism? I say the 
Roosevelt Americanism because Roosevelt was opposed 
to the league of nations which President Wilson was con- 
templating. He was for a league just as a majority of 
the Senate is for a league, but he was not for the Wilson 
league. In an article in the Metropolitan magazine, Mr. 
Roosevelt said: 

"If the League of Nations is built on a document as 
high-sounding and as meaningless as the speech in which 
Mr. Wilson laid down his fourteen points, it will simply 
add one more scrap to the diplomatic waste paper 
basket." 

And after President Wilson's appeal to the voters of 
the country to elect a Democratic congress, Mr. Roosevelt 
joined with Mr. Taft in saying that "it is of capital im- 

291 



portance that we should now elect a senate which shall 
be independent enough to interpret and enforce the will 
of the American people in the matter of this world peace 
and not merely submit to the uncontrolled will of Mr. 
Wilson." 

What kind of leadership do we want, — the Wilson 
kind or the Roosevelt kind? 

President Wilson has said, "The United States en- 
joyed the spiritual leadership of the world until the 
senate of the United States failed to ratify the treaty". 

The question then is: 

Which school of thought shall we follow in America 
to-day, the school that was led by Roosevelt, or the school 
that has been led by Wilson? Mr. Roosevelt the great 
American, while being primarily and wholeheartedly for 
America, nevertheless recognized the progress that was 
being made in the world and the great change that was 
being inaugurated in the world. He himself advocated 
a league of nations, but based it on the principle that it 
should contain the nations of the earth that are the most 
fit not only from a material point of view, but from a 
moral and spiritual point of view. He said, let these na- 
tions form the nucleus of the league, and let the other 
nations of the earth be admitted as they become fit to be 
admitted, thus recognizing the evolutionary principle 
that has been working out from the foundation of the 
world. This would have been a league which it might 
be said would have been formed by the war itself, and 
the close friendship thus formed between France and 
Great Britain and the United States would have been 
perpetuated instead of being broken down by the un- 
fortunate wrangle that has necessarily taken place over 

292 



the impossible league proposed by Woodrow Wilson. 
Mr. Wilson could have had peace without delay if he 
had accepted it as a separate treaty and without having 
the league covenant embodied in it. That was the un- 
fortunate part of his trip to Europe, and because of that 
part, history will record that the trip never should have 
been made at all. It is my own opinion that for having 
insisted that the league covenant be embodied in- 
separably in the treaty, that he should have been im- 
peached. 

But Mr. Wilson would fly in the face of all known 
laws of evolution and progress and would set up a 
Utopian world that should instantly do away with war 
and all inequalities and all injustice. He has of course 
played into the hands from the beginning, of the pro- 
Germans, the internationalists, the socialists and the Bol- 
shevists. He has sought to put America on a plane of 
equality with the unfit nations of the earth to the same 
extent that he has sought to bring these unfit nations up 
to a plane of equality with the fit nations of the earth, of 
which America is the supreme exponent. Indeed we 
should have internationalism to-day, and we should have 
brotherhood to-day to the extent that these things can be 
had without causing a detriment not only to America 
but to the entire world. That has ever been America's 
mission in the world, and it has ever been America's pur- 
pose to bring these things about, and America has ever 
been best able to bring about these things by first order- 
ing well her own household and keeping herself fit to 
take her own part in the struggle of the world, and she 
should continue to-day to do those things. She should 
continue to use her own judgment in international affairs 

293 



and not become bound by contract to submit to the judg- 
ment of other nations. Should she do so, America again 
would scarcely be able to save the world for democracy 
should the need ever come. America has never yet 
proved false to her trust as the keeper of the liberties of 
mankind. When those liberties have been assailed, 
though slow to act, she has nevertheless gone to the 
rescue and this she will ever do. But she has gone at the 
dictates of her own conscience, and at the dictates of her 
own judgment, uncoerced by the consciences or the judg- 
ments of other nations. America should ever keep her- 
self free to decide for herself the questions of right and 
wrong that arise in international relations and should 
ever keep herself free to decide for herself when the 
good of the world demands the great weight of her moral 
and material forces. To do otherwise is to break faith 
with those who have died not only in Flanders Field, but 
in Yorktown and Saratoga and at Gettysburg, and the 
other battlefields of our own great wars. Let America 
indeed enter a league of nations to-day, but let it be 
based on the principles announced by Mr. Roosevelt, 
or failing that let it be based on the principles announced 
by Henry Cabot Lodge or Elihu Root, rather than upon 
those announced by Woodrow Wilson. 

It would have been better if the Wilson league had 
never been proposed at all. For even with reservations 
it will not be as valuable to our country and the world as 
would have been the league proposed by Mr. Roosevelt. 
Both Mr. Roosevelt and Mr. Root had long been working 
for the establishment of an international court and an 
association of nations based on judicial rather than on 
political and diplomatic principles. 

294 



At the Philadelphia convention which nominated 
William McKinley for President of the United States, in 
1900, Theodore Roosevelt seconded the nomination with 
the following remarks : 

"We stand on the threshold of a new century, a cen- 
tury big with fate of the great nations of the earth. It 
rests with us to decide whether in the opening years of 
that century we shall march forward to fresh triumphs, 
or whether at the outset we shall deliberately cripple 
ourselves for the contest. Is America a weakling to 
shrink from the world-work to be done by the world 
powers? No! The young Giant of the West stands on a 
continent and clasps the crest of an ocean in either hand. 
Our nation, glorious in youth and strength, looks into the 
future with fearless and eager eyes, and rejoices as a 
strong man to run a race. We do not stand in craven 
mood, asking to be spared the task, cringing as we gaze 
on the contest. No! We challenge the proud privilege 
of doing the work that Providence allots us, and we face 
the coming years high of heart and resolute of faith that 
to our people is given the right to win such honor and re- 
nown as has never yet been granted to the peoples of 
mankind." 

This of course has ever been his attitude in regard to 
America and Americanism. And this of course was his 
attitude in regard to the relations that should have been 
assumed by America with the other nations of the earth 
at the time of the outbreak of the great World War. He 
recognized not only our moral obligations at that time to 
Belgium and France and the other nations attacked by 
Germany, but he also recognized our legal obligations un- 



29-5 



der The Hague conventions when the neutrality of 
Belgium was violated. We were parties to the treaties 
enacted at The Hague, and of course as parties to the 
treaties, it was our duty to interfere when Germany 
violated the treaty and invaded the neutral territory of 
Belgium. These things being true, it has always seemed 
to me at least slightly absurd that a man of the type of 
Woodrow Wilson should assume to prevent and block 
the attempt of Mr. Roosevelt to go to Europe himself 
and take part in the great World War. At the time of 
our entrance into the war, it is well known that Mr. 
Roosevelt tendered to President Wilson the services of 
himself and of his four sons but it is also well known that 
these services were steadfastly declined. What shall we 
say of this attitude of President Wilson in regard to serv- 
ices that might have been rendered during the war? 
What shall we say of his partisan selfish spirit which 
caused him to decline these services? What shall we 
say indeed? 

Roosevelt, an American to the core, and representing 
all classes of true Americans and having much in com- 
mon with them all was denied the opportunity of dying 
upon the battlefield for the land he loved. He, an Amer- 
ican, and true to the last, was denied this opportunity by 
one who is not a typical American. He, an American, 
representing the rank and file of American citizenship, 
was denied this opportunity by one who represents only 
those who are found in the office, the library and the 
class room. He, an American who had worked and 
toiled at the side of the ranchman, the cowboy, the lum- 
berjack, and the soldier was denied this opportunity by 
one who, it might almost be said, never in all his life did 

2% 



a stroke of work with his hands. He, an American whose 
fine vigor and normal healthful life typified not only the 
finest and best of civilization but whose wonderful life 
covered also in its unprecedented range the activity of 
the hunter, the cowboy and the soldier, was denied the 
opportunity of taking part in a war for liberty of which 
he was the world's greatest and most mighty champion. 
He, whose dauntless soul never flinched in the face of 
danger, and whose lion-like courage never faltered and 
remained ever fearless in the face of the most desperate 
odds, was denied the opportunity of fighting for the great 
land he loved by one whose white hand never wielded 
axe or spade, or carried a rifle or saber or lifted any- 
thing more potent than pencil or pen. True, the pen 
may be mightier than the sword, but what of him who 
wielded both? What of him whose pen was more po- 
tent, more far-reaching in its effect, more facile and more 
able to cover an enormous range than that of him who 
is able to wield the pen alone? What of him whose tre- 
mendous energy carried him into almost every field of 
human endeavor, who was conversant with the works of 
the savants and with that of the toilers as well and who 
was conversant with both, not from hearsay alone, but 
because he had lived and worked and toiled with both? 
What shall we say of him, who is gone, whose life was 
so wonderful, so effective, so sympathetic, so intensely 
human and so great and what shall we say of him who 
blocked his most ardent desire and his most cherished 
dream? What shall we say? We can say nothing. We 
can only stand at the grave of him who is gone and 
mourn the loss; the greatest grief that has come to our 
land since Lincoln's time. We can drape the flag about 

297 



his tomb and know that could he see it there he would 
be well pleased. We can look on the seas that wash our 
shores and on the lonely mountain tops and know that 
were he with us he would love them still. We can look 
over our broad land and know that mightiest of all 
mighty crusaders, he would have fought for this great 
land. We can know and solace ourselves with the thought 
that he of all others in the world knew what it means to 
be devoted to a cause. We can know that he never looked 
on injustice and remained unmoved. We can know that 
his was a soul that burned white with indignation at 
the sight of wrong and that his might and his strength 
were ever given to benefit the weak and to overthrow 
the strong when injustice was their cause. 

We can know that no land in all the world ever pro- 
duced one with the rare combination of characteristics 
that were his. His was the combination of the physical 
and the mental, of the things of the earth and the body 
and the things of the spirit and the soul. His was a 
great life, the greatest ever lived in America since 
Lincoln's time, and he was an American to the core. 



29S 



CHAPTER XXII. 

OF course also it is well known that the services of 
General Wood were dispensed with by the Pres- 
ident and that the General was relegated to an in- 
terior post in the United States as remote as possible 
from the actual scene of operations in the great war. 
What shall we say also of this action of the President? 
And what shall we say of his partisan appeal to the 
voters of this country at the time of the congressional 
election in 1918? What shall we say of his appeal to the 
voters of the country to return a democratic congress to 
Washington in the face of the fact that the selective draft 
law which enabled this country to turn the scale in favor 
of democracy, had been before that time enacted by 
Republicans, and had been bitterly opposed by the 
Democrats then in congress, the speaker of the house, 
Mr. Clark, even leaving the speaker's chair to appear 
upon the floor of the house to oppose the measure, and 
even stating that a conscript was no better than a con- 
vict? What shall we say of this appeal of President 
Wilson in the face of the fact that practically all of the 
legislation in support of the war was enacted by Re- 
publicans, and opposed with great hostility by the 
Democrats? The question of the increasing of the 
strength of both the army and the navy having been sup- 



299 



ported strongly by the Republicans and having been 
voted against by a large majority of the Democrats, and 
upon the question of increasing the pay of the private 
soldier to the small sum of thirty dollars per month, 
forty-three Democrats voted in favor of the measure, 
while a hundred and forty-one voted against it, and a 
hundred and fifty-six Republicans voted in its favor, and 
only thirty-seven voted against it. And in the appeal 
made to the voters by the President, he expressly stated 
that the Republicans in congress had been pro-war, but 
were anti-administration, and upon that basis appealed 
to the voters of the country to turn them out of office and 
to return Democrats instead. And this was after he had 
made the statement that "politics is adjourned". 

Woodrow Wilson has been the most partisan pres- 
ident that we have ever had in the history of the country, 
his partisanship appearing not only in the measures re- 
ferred to, but also in his trip to Europe where he took 
with him only persons who were entirely subject to his 
will, and none of whom were from the Senate and all of 
whom were Democrats with the possible exception of 
one, while he left such world-renowned statesmen at 
home as Elihu Root and others within the Republican 
party of this country who had they been taken to Europe, 
might have saved the world the unfortunate wrangle that 
has taken place over the peace treaty and the league 
covenant. 

But I have again wandered far from my story. When 
Joe Burgess and John Randolph and I arrived home 
from our journey to the southwest over the Santa Fe 
Trail, we found a great surprise in store for us. Neither 



300 



my Uncle nor the Chief were at home, and John Ran- 
dolph's child was also missing. 

Inquiry at the town revealed the fact that the child 
had been kidnapped. A wagon train had gone through 
the town toward the west and immediately after the 
child was missing. That had been almost a month be- 
fore our arrival. John Randolph was of course, well 
nigh distracted. He at once announced his intention 
of setting out westward over the road taken by thr 
emigrant trains. We persuaded him, however, to re 
main at home, assuring him that he could do nothing and 
that the chief and Frank Perkins would do everything 
possible to recover the child. 

The very next day Frank Perkins and the chief and a 
pale, rather thin, but graceful woman and John Ran- 
dolph's child walked into the house. 

The father of the child was reading when the steps 
of the travelers sounded at the door. He looked up just 
as the woman appeared in the doorway. His face sud- 
denly set and he stared as one in a dream. The pale 
face of the lady returned the stare. For a moment they 
looked at each other spellbound and then were in each 
other's arms. John Randolph's wife had come home. 

She briefly told her story. She had escaped from the 
dungeon, and reports of her death were of course false. 
But she had found that her child had disappeared. 
Where it had been taken she could not ascertain with 
any certainty, but she was told that it had been taken to 
America. She also heard that her husband had escaped 
from the mines in Siberia and that he was attempting to 
reach American shores. She felt sure that he would 
never again return to Russia or to England and that 

301 



there was at least a chance of his reaching America, and 
with the report in her mind that her child had been taken 
there also she set out at once to the great land in the 
western seas. She also called on the relatives in New 
York and was of course informed that undoubtedly her 
child was then at Adel. Overjoyed she set out at once 
for Iowa. When she arrived at Adel she found neither 
the child nor any of the people with whom he was sup- 
posed to have made his home. She was then informed 
that the child she sought had been kidnapped and that 
the people with whom he had been living and their 
friends were searching for him. Her informants told 
her that according to the best information obtainable he 
had been taken West, and she at once took the stage for 
Council Bluffs or any intermediate point where it might 
be possible for the boy to be found. She saw no evi- 
dence of him at any of the intermediate points and she 
had proceeded to Council Bluffs. There she was sitting 
one afternoon on the river bank looking across west- 
ward at the great plains which she knew extended to the 
Rocky Mountains. She was contemplating a journey on 
those plains when her attention was attracted to a group 
of emigrants ferrying across the turbid, muddy waters 
of the river. A child had fallen off the ferry and was 
just disappearing beneath the surface of the chocolate 
colored water. Almost at the same instant an Indian 
warrior emerged from the willows along the stream and 
plunging into the water swam swiftly toward the sinking 
child. As the boy was sinking for the third time the 
savage reached him and seizing him quickly turned and 
swam for the shore. The emigrants stopped the pon- 
derous ferry and pulled it back toward the river bank. 

302 



The lady concealed herself carefully among the trees 
and weeds that grew along the shore and watched the 
big Indian come up out of the water like an animal and 
lay the child on the ground almost at her feet and at- 
tempt to resuscitate it. He turned it over so that the 
pale face was exposed to view. A gasp and terrified cry 
escaped from the lips of John Randolph's wife. On the 
instant she sprang from her hiding and had the child in 
her arms. She worked and worked and soon was re- 
warded by seeing the boy's eyes open and by hearing 
him gasp for breath. In due time she had brought him 
around. Then clasping him to her bosom she wept and 
cried and held him closer and ever closer. She rocked 
back and forth upon her knees with the child held tightly 
in her arms. 

The astounded savage stood and stared. Then as he 
regained his senses he placed a heavy hand upon the 
lady's arm. She looked up at his heavy features and a 
shudder ran through her frame. The men from the 
ferry were just beginning to land. The warrior pulled 
the woman's arms away from the child and quickly lifted 
him into his own. In a frenzy the woman clung to the 
warrior's hands and arms but he shook her off and 
started into the willows. Then quickly taking a locket 
from her neck she flung herself upon the bewildered 
savage and said, "See, see" and pointed at the picture 
which the locket contained. In it was a picture of her- 
self and husband and the child. The savage eyes caught 
the glint of light upon the trinket and the savage hand 
seized and wrested it from its owner while an exclama- 
tion of wonder and delight escaped the savage lips. The 
woman pointed at the picture, at herself and at the child. 

303 



But the savage heeded her not at all. Then suddenly 
clasping the locket in his hand he disappeared in the 
thick growth of trees with the child in his arms and the 
woman saw him no more. 

The chief, for he it was who had rescued the drown- 
ing boy, returned with all speed to my uncle's home. 
Frank Perkins' delight at seeing the child once more knew 
no bounds. To have had John Randolph return and 
find his boy gone with little prospect of ever finding him 
would have been more than he would have been able to 
bear. He had sent the chief in one direction while he 
had gone in the other. My uncle seemed to think the 
child had been taken east and he had gone to Des Moines 
and Iowa City and Davenport in search of him but had 
returned empty-handed. The chief, however, had been 
successful, as we have seen. Frank Perkins' relief at 
seeing the boy once more was inexpressible but when 
the chief showed him the locket he was speechless with 
amazement. He lost no time in setting out to find the 
lady from whom it had been taken. He left the boy with 
a friend in town and enjoined secrecy until he should re- 
turn. When he did return he walked into his house, 
where John Randolph was sitting, with both wife and 
child. 

The autumn days were days of calm beauty. The 
bleak winds softened as the weather changed and many 
days of sunshine and warmth intervened before the 
frost king came. John Randolph and his wife had never 
known that life held such happiness as was theirs dur- 
ing those gorgeous days of Iowa's fall. They beheld the 
marvelous foliage, the troops of robins, blackbirds and 
ducks and geese and they sensed the quiet, the abun- 

304 



dance and the repose with minds and hearts too full to 
utter the joy and thanksgiving that were theirs. Truly 
they were in the promised land. The relief that they 
felt at being free, at being under no restraint and under 
no hardship and no great care was beyond the power of 
their tongues to tell. They and their child lived in a 
house built of native Iowa timber. The dwelling stood 
a short distance from my uncle's house in the direction 
of the town. I often looked at it and thought of the 
people dwelling within its walls and wondered how many 
other families would find refuge in similar houses from 
the tyranny and oppression of the East. I sat long by 
the blazing fire in my uncle's home during the long 
winter nights and I read in the quiet comfort and seclu- 
sion of that home the histories of Europe and the Orient. 
I read of the teeming millions of human beings in the 
ancient East and I read of the despotism of kings. I read 
of the long struggle for human liberty and of the west- 
ward trend of nations. I saw how freedom's torch led 
westward, lighting the world. I read of the sacrifices, of 
the toil, of the suffering endured by martyrs that prin- 
ciple might live and that those of succeeding generations 
might inherit better things than their ancestors had 
known. I read of the things of history of which I have 
heretofore told you. I read of struggle, of long unend- 
ing struggle and I have attempted to show all through 
my story and in my observations in regard to American 
affairs, that the upward tendency of mankind and the 
race in general is everywhere based upon struggle. 
Struggle everywhere has been the price and the watch- 
word of human progress. Eternal vigilance and eternal 
effort are everywhere necessary for the purpose of mak- 

30® 



ing advancement and progress in the world. This 
struggle, I have said, has had its culmination in the great 
World War that has just been brought to a close, and I 
have spoken of the two schools of thought that have 
existed in America in regard to the best method of mak- 
ing progress to-day. I have spoken of internationalism 
and of Americanism, and I have spoken of the tangible, 
material world, and of the intangible, immaterial world. 
I have even gone so far as to speak of Christian Science 
and the Christian Scientists, and I have even gone so far 
as to compare them and their ideas and methods of 
thought with the ideas and the methods of thought of 
President Wilson and his followers. It may not have 
seemed to you to have been at all justified to speak of the 
methods of one as in any way to be compared with the 
methods of the other. But in this respect at least there 
is a similarity, — both promise the healing of human ills 
and human ailments with scarcely more than the lifting 
of the hand. Both promise great reward without having 
paid the price that heretofore humanity has always had 
to pay for the attainment of that reward. President 
Wilson has promised that the league of nations which 
has been proposed by him would put an end to all wars. 
He has said that if the league should be ratified as he 
has proposed it, that the boys in khaki would never have 
to cross the ocean again. He has given us to understand 
that the millenium, if not here, is almost here. Christian 
Scientists of course promise the same thing in the realm 
of human betterment so far as disease and physical ills 
and physical limitations are concerned. And in regard 
to the attitude of both President Wilson in regard to na- 
tional affairs and in regard to the attitude of the 

306 



Christian Scientists in regard to physical individual 
affairs, I have admitted that I believe there has been 
made a beginning in the direction which they have 
pointed out, but I have also said that it is only a begin- 
ning and I have said that the reason why I so look upon 
these things has been deeply established in my own life 
from my own experiences, and that those experiences 
have been practically burned upon my soul. 

To the end that you may understand why these things 
are so, I suppose I should go ahead and tell further of my 
individual experiences. I have said heretofore in my story 
that I may be prejudiced and I have said that I am 
setting out my experiences so that you may see why I 
have been prejudiced, if it is true that I am prejudiced. 
Perhaps it is not just correct to say that I am prejudiced, 
for prejudice implies conclusions arrived at without rea- 
son, and if I set out somewhat in detail the experiences 
that I have gone through in my life, I think you will see 
that my conclusions are based, to a certain extent at 
least, upon reason, and that therefore they are not strictly 
the result of prejudice, but that they are the result of 
hard and bitter experiences. I have said also, that I have 
arrived at the conclusions that I have arrived at for the 
reason that the things that I set out to attain or the things 
that I thought that I might attain when I first came to 
Iowa, I have been unable to attain. I have said that I 
have arrived at the conclusions that I have arrived at for 
the reason that the program which I attempted to 
inaugurate has largely failed, and for the reason that I 
believe that there is a similarity between the affairs of 
individuals and the affairs of nations. I believe that the 
progress that has been made in the realm of individual 

:!07 



affairs is just about equal to and practically the same as 
that made in national affairs. I want to look out and 
up, and I want to make progress. If there is any pos- 
sible way of overcoming and getting away from physical 
ills and physical limitations, I want to find that way. 
And if there is any possible way to get away from war 
without causing a failure of democracy and the loss of 
liberty and freedom, I also want to find that way. But 
my experience has taught me that these things can not 
be done easily or suddenly. And as I have reiterated 
many times, my experience has taught me that it is only 
through "grim labor and painful effort" that we move for- 
ward to better things. These experiences I have told 
you in part, but I have not told them all. My experi- 
ences in the great Civil War of our own country have of 
course, contributed largely to the conclusions that I have 
arrived at. The great struggle that this country went 
through at that time has been deeply written upon my 
soul. Americanism it always seemed to me was really 
born at that time. Americanism of course was begun 
and inaugurated at the time of Washington and at the 
time of James Monroe, but it was still an experiment un- 
til after the close of the great Civil War. 

Lincoln, on the field of Gettysburg said: "Four 
score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth upon 
this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and 
dedicated to the proposition that all men are created 
equal. Now we are engaged in a great Civil War testing 
whether that nation or any nation so conceived can long 
endure". 

And of course all the world knows the result of the 
test, and that it was demonstrated that this nation could 

308 



endure and that government of the people, by the people 
and for the people should not perish from the earth. 
This was Americanism. It was established here by those 
who have fought for liberty and by those who have taken 
their places on the firing line. As I have said, it was not 
established by the pacifists or by the conscientious objec- 
tors, or by those who believed there was such a thing as 
being "too proud to fight". It was established by those 
who believed as Grant believed when he said: "We 
shall fight it out along this line if it takes all summer", 
and it was established by those who believed as he be- 
lieved when he exacted from the South "nothing short 
of unconditional surrender". Neither he nor Abraham 
Lincoln believed in "peace without victory". The victory 
they won was complete and overwhelming and posterity 
reaps the benefits thereof to-day. There were no half- 
way measures adopted at the time of the winning of the 
Civil War, but the peace of justice was established and 
no resultant conflict has resulted therefrom in the years 
that have since passed by. 

But to-day such a thing can scarcely be said. At the 
close of the great World War it can scarcely be said that 
there has been unconditional surrender, or that the vic- 
tory has been complete and overwhelming. It has not 
been. 

The germ of militarism in Germany is not yet dead, 
nor will it be dead for many years to come. A mental 
victory has not been won over the German Government 
or over the German people. Deep in their hearts there 
lurks the old hatred of the world and the old bitter har- 
boring of resentment against all prosperous peoples of 
the world. Germany still longs for a "place in the sun" 

209 



and sometime, somehow, somewhere Germany will have 
a place in the sun. And the price that she will yet be 
willing to pay to win it, will astonish the world. The old 
resentment will again break forth somehow, somewhere. 
It may be in a militaristic way and it may be in an 
economic way and it may be in both ways but that 
German "Kultur" will yet amaze the world I have little 
doubt. But you say that the teeth of the German mon- 
ster have been drawn by the terms of the armistice and 
that watchful armies surround the German lands, and 
that such things in the future cannot be possible. But I 
simply answer, wait and see. And you say that if my 
position is correct that it is all the more reason why we 
should have a league of nations. I answer, yes, but it 
should be a Roosevelt league or a Root league or a Lodge 
league and not a Wilson league. 

When Mr. Roosevelt was in Des Moines the last time 
he said, "Unless we put this war through to an end by 
administering to Germany a complete knock-out we will 
have to fight again — maybe in the lifetime of the oldest of 
us, and certainly in the lifetime of those of you who are 
young." 

If we could have had him for our president both dur- 
ing the war and after the war how much better off we 
would be. 

But to return to the days of the great Civil War. The 
crisis that confronted this country at that time was a 
crisis indeed. It was the trial of liberty and the greatest 
crisis ever known in the life of Democracy up to that 
time. 

I thought of the great land I loved — of its far-flung 
boundaries and of the things within those boundaries for 

310 



which our country stood. It seemed to me that the 
giant peaks of the great West with their pure white snow 
were typical of the high ideals of our American life. It 
seemed to me that the wide reaches of prairie and plain 
were expressive of the untrammeled liberty that our 
country fostered and maintained. I saw all the great 
land that I had traveled over rising up in my mind's eye 
and I saw that the new ideals of the West were on trial 
and that their very existence was threatened. I knew 
that America — the new land, the new home of the fresh 
new life that had grown so wonderfully and well would 
cease to be America as the world had come to know it, 
if the cause of the Union failed. I knew that the great 
new experiment would be proclaimed a failure and that 
the world again would become entrenched in the rule of 
kings with scarcely a dissenting voice to dispute their 
sway in all the world, should the ideals of Lincoln and 
those who followed him be brought low. 

I knew that the cause of the union must prevail — I 
knew that the American flag must float over all the vast 
region that I had seen and known as well as over all the 
region of the south. I knew that unless it should do so 
that those, who like John Randolph and his wife, had 
sought refuge here would be compelled to turn back in 
disappointment and sorrow or remain here to see even 
worse things enacted within our borders than those from 
which they had fled. 

I knew America's hour of trial had come and that the 
supreme test of Democracy was here. Of all the 
European countries, Russia alone was our friend. Prac- 
tically all the others sympathized with the South. 

Had the Union been disrupted and had the govern- 

311 



ment founded by Washington and his associates failed, 
all European monarchists would have rubbed their hands 
with glee and the cause of liberty would have been set 
back a thousand years. 

Accordingly that year found me and my companions 
enlisted in the 15th Iowa Infantry and the next year 
found us actively engaged in the battle of Shiloh. 

How can I tell of the vast importance of that great 
war? How can I tell what it has meant to succeeding 
generations not only in our own land but throughout the 
world? How can I tell what it has meant to the world 
at the outbreak of the European war to have America a 
land united and free? How can I tell what it has meant 
to the world that Lincoln said "The union must and shall 
be preserved?" How can I describe the terrible things 
that would have come to pass had Lincoln faltered or 
wavered to the slightest extent or if he had heeded to the 
slightest extent those who counseled compromise and 
half-way measures of pacifying those who wished to 
desert the cause for which humanity had left European 
shores and who wished to secede from the Union and 
that cause? 

All honor to the men of blood and iron who in that 
day fought humanity's fight and preserved us a nation. 
All honor to the men who faced the foe and refused to 
compromise or to be a party to anything but the peace 
of justice. All honor to the heroic dead who have lain 
through all these years in nameless graves, dead and for 
the most part forgotten, but whose souls go marching 
on in "that great cause to which they gave the last full 
measure of devotion." All honor to the men and the 
women and the boys who suffered and endured and gave 

312 



their lives that humanity might be free, "that this nation 
under God, should have a new birth of freedom and that 
government of the people, by the people, and for the 
people should not perish from the earth." 

The close of the civil war was a victory for Amer- 
icanism. It was the vindication of the Declaration of In- 
dependence no less than was the Revolutionary War. In 
fact, it was the vindication of all great struggles for 
human freedom from the beginning of time. It was a 
triumph also of the ideals of the West over those of the 
East. It was the establishment of new thoughts and new 
ideals in a new land and a raising of the torch of liberty 
to a height that might be seen by the whole world. 

To say that I was proud of my country when the war 
was over is putting it mildly. I thought the grandest 
boast of any citizen was to be able to say: "I am an 
American citizen," and since that time I have never 
changed my mind. 



3il3' 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

XN the conclusions that I have arrived at in regard 
to the progress that individuals and nations can 
make in the world, I have allied myself with the 
conservative side. I say conservative but of course my 
position is conservative only from the point of view of 
the Christian Scientists on the one hand, and from the 
point of view of the internationalist and the league of 
nations supporter on the other. From the point of view 
of other persons my position would perhaps be ultra- 
progressive. And I have said that while I have great 
sympathy with those who seek to explore new fields and 
acquire new benefits for humankind, at the same time I 
feel that to-day those who are exploring these new fields 
claim altogether too much in regard to what can be 
found and attained there. 

I suppose that my position could be still further illus- 
trated by telling of my further relations with Julia King 
and of my experiences in the great Civil War, and these 
are the two experiences to which I referred when I said 
that the things that had given rise to my conclusions and 
the experiences which had brought them about had been 
burned upon my soul. The millenium is not here yet. 
It is not here for individuals and it is not here for na- 
tions. 

How well I remember the davs of betrothal that were 



314 



mine alter the winning of Julia King, for I might as well 
tell you at this point that I did finally win her. I do 
not claim to be any story teller, nor any artist so far as 
literary attainments are concerned. I simply tell things 
as they occur to me in the most rambling fashion, so that 
I am telling you now in advance that I did in fact win 
Julia King, and of course I have said that it was the ex- 
periences that I had while winning her that gave rise 
fundamentally to the conclusions that I have arrived at, 
and of which I am trying to tell you. 

How I loved physical perfection, and how I loved the 
grandeur of a noble soul. And in Julia King I saw them 
both. How ardent, how enthusiastic, how eager, how 
thrilled I was. After I returned from the war I saw her 
daily, saw her when the winter snows mantled the land- 
scape and when she wore garments richly decked with 
furs; saw her in the spring time when all the world was 
sweet and new and when the newness of life gripped my 
very soul and held me enthralled as in a spell; saw her 
when the summer sun beat mercilessly down and when 
she rested beneath the trees to find cooling shelter from 
the heat of noon; saw her when boisterous autumn's 
wintry blasts swept the woods and fields bare of their 
summer dress and when the lowhung clouds rolled darkly 
across the sky. Saw her as the seasons came and went; 
saw her as she adjusted her life and her appearance to 
each and saw in her and in the world of Nature round 
about me the completest happiness that ever comes to 
human beings. I saw her on the limpid waters in her 
Indian bark canoe. The chief had made it for her before 
we had all gone West, and in it as she floated lightly on 
the current of the river, I saw a primeval maid close to 

315 



Nature and to Nature's God. I saw her also when the 
frost king bound the river as in a coat of iron; saw her 
gracefully skating on the glasslike surface while her 
laugh rang out on the frosty air. I saw everything that I 
ever expected or wanted to see in a human being. And 
I saw her also beneath the harvest moon when the earth 
was so still that not a sound was heard and when she sat 
close by my side while we drank deep of the sweetest 
love that ever came to man. 

And I wish everyone, every American, at least, could 
have and know the joy that was mine. As I think of 
the weak and helpless, as I think of the struggling thou- 
sands in the great cities to many of whom all really 
natural joys and all really wholesome pleasures are 
denied, I hope that somehow, some way they and those 
who come after them may enjoy the pleasures, the sweet, 
deep pleasures that were mine. I wish for every man a 
wholesome lovely woman, and for every woman a whole- 
some, manly man. I wish for them all strength, and 
spiritual understanding, health and moral stamina and 
courage. I wish for them all a wholesome, natural life, 
lived as the Creator intended that they should live, and 
lived among the most wholesome and uplifting sur- 
roundings. And I wish for the race as a whole this same 
strength, this same beauty, this same love. For upon it 
is based the hope of humankind; upon the home, upon 
the wife and mother and upon this love and understand- 
ing of life is based the hope of the world; upon this great 
fundamental, basic principle of life, the rearing and 
training and the bringing into the world of as noble and 
as upright and as sweet and as beautiful specimens of 
humankind as the fathers and mothers when the fathers 

31G 



and mothers are of the proper kind is based the future 
of mankind. Children we need that are real children, 
normal, happy, strong. Weaklings we hope that we may 
not have. Weaklings that cause the tragedies of human- 
kind. Weaklings that are a trial, a heartache and a 
disappointment to themselves and all mankind. Weak- 
lings that are the most pitiful, the most pathetic things 
in the world. 

So I wish for all mankind the strength that was mine 
when I journeyed up the Platte and I wish for all man- 
kind the kind of woman that was mine. And I wish for 
all mankind for men and women alike, the strength that 
makes life a joy and not a torment, a glorious, abundant 
experience and not a trial, and that makes God an object 
of worship and adoration and not one of dread and deep 
hate and apprehension. I wish for them all the 
pleasure and joy of life as I experienced it in the great 
West, the land of my dreams. I hope the dreams of 
others come true. I hope the land I loved so ardently, 
so devotedly, so everlastingly will be equally loved by all 
other Americans. I hope it will be cherished by loyal 
sons and I hope that it will ever be kept pure. I hope 
nothing will ever detract from its great glory, its sublime 
grandeur and its incomparable majesty. I hope it will 
ever be the land of the free and the home of the brave, 
the home of the leaders of mankind. 

And I hope that not only in America but all over the 
world that men will get back to the soil — back to Nature 
and to Nature's God. And I hope that not only in 
America but all over the world the leaders among men 



317 



will be real men and not merely products of the office, 
the library and the class room. 

But those days of betrothal were not days that sim- 
ply happened or that came about unheralded and un- 
thought of, but were days that came about as a result of 
constancy to purpose, of hardship, and of bitter toil which 
won the "splendid ultimate triumph." 

How well also I can remember the days, or rather the 
nights or night when first I knew that she was mine, in 
the mountains of the far West, while I was endeavoring 
to rescue her from the clutches of Harry Lee ! How well 
I remember there on the mountain side in the dead of 
night, while Julia King slept on a bed of spruceboughs, 
and while I kept watch through the lonely vigils of the 
night — how well I remember, I say, how all of the 
struggle that had gone on in the years that had gone be- 
fore came trooping through and presenting itself in my 
mind! All of the toil and all of the hardship and all of 
the lonely and solitary wanderings over the western half 
of the continent and the experiences attendant thereon, 
came trooping through my mind in endless array, and 
almost in overwhelming confusion. My mind seemed to 
go out and up to the very stars, seemed to comprehend 
the very 7 vault of Heaven and to find no limit except in 
the wide regions of space and eternity itself. There I 
contemplated all of the past, all of the wretched things 
that had been mine in the beginning of my career in the 
East, all of the hardship and humiliation and disgrace 
that had been attendant upon my efforts to get a start 
in the world. I thought there how in the past I had 
thought that possibly this quest of mine for the hand of 
Julia King would in due time work itself out as I wished 

318 



it would be worked out according to preconceived plans 
over which I had no control. This had made me con- 
tent at times to simply watch and wait while the months 
and years were going by. But also as I sat there on the 
mountain side alone except for the company of Julia 
King herself, in the regions of the silences that shrouded 
the mountains, I contemplated the toil and endeavor and 
the effort of which I have spoken. And then and there, 
for once and all, I renounced all idea of ever depending 
upon any power in the world outside of my own in- 
dividual self. I have said that the relation of an in- 
dividual to the Supreme Being is apparently one in the 
nature of a partnership and that man is not sufficient 
unto himself, and that also reliance upon a Supreme Be- 
ing alone without co-operative effort on the part of the 
individual, would be disastrous and fraught with utter 
calamity. But there on the mountain side while I still 
believed these things to be true, I decided once and for 
all to simply fear God and take my own part. At that 
time, of course I had not heard that particular expres- 
sion of the idea, but the idea was nevertheless the same. 
I decided that if the Supreme Being to any extent enters 
into the affairs of man, and if that to any extent His 
plans are being worked out through human channels, 
that in any event it will not do for humanity to assume 
that that is true and to rely upon these plans to the ex- 
tent of failing to take one's own part and of doing one's 
utmost to work out one's own salvation. This is not to 
say that I believe that the Supreme Being has nothing to 
do with the affairs of man, but it is simply to say that we 
should concern ourselves with our affairs alone and the 
affairs of the Supreme Being will take care of them- 

319 



selves. So, after I had gone through the great Civil 
War as a soldier in the ranks, I was the more confirmed 
in my conclusions. I saw the blood and slaughter and 
carnage of the battlefield and heard and read the expres- 
sions of the great Lincoln, and it was indelibly written 
upon my soul that the things fought for here in America 
at that time and the principles which were established 
here at that time, could only have been established at 
that time in the way in which they were in fact estab- 
lished. No reliance upon the Supreme Being to establish 
these principles or to carry them into effect without the 
interference of human agency and human effort, could 
have availed anything. It was the "fiery gospel writ in 
burnished rows of steel" of which Julia Ward Howe has 
written, that was then carried into effect, and that was 
carried into effect by the bayonet and by shot and shell. 
But you ask, and I have myself put the question, will 
there never come a better day? Will there never come 
a time when these things will cease to be? And have we 
not reached that period of time in our history to-day 
when these things will begin to be relegated to the past? 
You ask is not the light of a new day beginning to dawn? 
And I reply as I have replied before, that I believe my- 
self that it is, but that it is only the faint light of dawn, 
and is not yet the white light of noon. Christian Sci- 
entists and the league of nations supporters are acting 
upon the theory that it is the white light of noon. But 
that is the thing which I am objecting to and that is the 
action and the position which I think should be corn- 
batted in the world to-day. Americanism is being aban- 
doned or the attempt is being made to abandon it for in- 



320 



ternationalism. And internationalism may some day 
come, and probably will come, but to-day Americanism 
is the thing that should be taught and firmly established 
and insisted upon throughout the length and breadth of 
our land. 

You say that we are coming upon a change, and that 
old things can be abandoned, and that though it was nec- 
essary to have the struggle and combat of which I have 
spoken half a century or more ago, that it is not necessary 
to-day, and will not be necessary in the future. A certain 
change no doubt is being made but it is not sufficient to 
justify the surrender of the things which we and our 
fathers have fought for in this country from its very be- 
ginning. 

One change, however, that is the result of modern 
times is very real, and is a change about which there can 
be no question, and that change is the change in the na- 
ture of our population and the change in the nature of 
the loyalty of the people, that inhabit this country, to this 
country's government and this country's institutions. 
How well I remember the reunion of John Randolph and 
his child in the center of the American continent, and how 
well I remember the reunion of John Randolph and his 
wife at the same point in the American continent, and 
how well I remember the thrill that went through my 
being when I saw them safely living here far from the 
despotism of the ancient East, and I well remember what 
an inspiration it was to me to think America, the land of 
the free and the home of the brave, where liberty indeed 
lighted the world, would ever be the congenial home of 
the downtrodden peoples of the earth and that it would 
ever afford sweet refuge for those who in the old coun- 



321 



tries of the world had found life a torment and a bitter 
sorrow. 

But to-day, what do we have upon the American con- 
tinent? We have the swarming thousands and millions 
from Europe and the ancient East overflowing our fair 
fresh lands and threatening not only our commercial and 
material welfare and prosperity, but the very government 
and institutions of our country themselves. 

I love America. To me it is synonymous with civiliza- 
tion in its perfection, or, at least, it is synonymous with 
civilization in the highest state yet known to man. It is 
synonymous with that exaltation of spirit that comes from 
living where the land is new. It is synonymous with the 
inspiration of great silent forests, endless streams and 
wonderful lakes and mountain chains. America to me 
has been a grand and wonderful home. The life I have 
led here has been to me a sublime and transcendent ex- 
perience. I could scarcely imagine a more charming life 
in the world to come than that led by myself here in 
America's primeval and glorious lands. I love nature in 
America. I love the outdoor life I have led here and 
nothing sweeter in all the world could there be for me 
than the nightly campfires I have enjoyed in the lonely 
forests and mountain chains. I have already said more 
than once in my story that as I sat by those campfires or 
as I listened to the wind in the trees or the snow drifting 
about my rude shelter in the remote fastnesses of the 
mountains, that I spent much time meditating on the out- 
come in America, of the immigration that would come 
here from European and Asiatic shores. The prospect 
was always a dismal one to me and it seems that to-day 
my forebodings were justified. I, of course, dreaded the 

322 



increase of population in America, in much the same way 
that the old hunters and trappers dreaded it and even 
perhaps in the same way that the Indians dreaded it. 
That, of course, you would say was unreasonable and the 
dread not of a civilized, but of a savage mind. Possibly 
that is true. But from the point of view of a civilized 
mind I think my dread was also justified. To-day the 
American continent is flooded with the European and 
the African and the Asiatic. It has become the home of 
the multitudinous representatives of every tribe and every 
race and every nation. It is, as I have said, the grand 
refuge of all outraged and downtrodden peoples. It is 
the rich and bountiful home of the earth's millions who 
are seeking freedom. But what shall we say of these 
millions? What shall we say of Turk and Hun and all 
others who come here to profit at our expense? What 
shall we say of those who come here not to build up, but 
with jealous hand to tear down the fairest and finest and 
best institutions in all the world? I have said in the 
course of my narrative that those who would come west- 
ward in such multitudes would have no appreciation of 
the sublime grandeur of Nature in America and that they 
would come to slay, mutilate and destroy. But little did 
I dream that they would come not only to slay and muti- 
late and destroy the products of Nature's hundreds and 
thousands of years of evolutionary toil, but also that they 
would come to slay, mutilate and destroy, if possible, all 
the institutions of our free and Democratic government. 
Little did I dream that they would come not only to ex- 
ploit Nature and little did I dream that they would come 
not only in a tremendous flood driving before them 
all the primeval things of a primeval world that I loved 

32H 



so well, but that they would also come with hatred in 
their hearts and, so far as many of them are concerned, 
at least, even pledged to destroy so far as possible the 
things in our government that have made it great. Little 
did I dream that these things which I dreaded would so 
soon come to pass and little did I dream that they would 
be accompanied by influences and motives so sinister and 
so dreadful. 

So, you see I love America and so you see I dread this 
internationalism that is spreading over the world. I 
dread the spread of the Hun, the Turk, the Asiatic and 
many of the African peoples to American shores. I 
dread the spread of Socialism and Bolshevism. I dread 
the spread of the crank, the anarchist and the fanatic. 
When I see them to-day in the streets of our crowded 
cities I long for the little mountain streams, the water 
ousel and the lonely campfire among the mountains. The 
mountains — oh, how I loved the mountains. The great 
peaks and tremendous crags and summits that towered 
above my lonely campfire. There was sweet solitude 
there, sweet communion with Nature and the Power that 
is behind the world. But now my favorite camping 
grounds have been desecrated by the railroad, the water- 
power, the mine, and a thousand other products of civ- 
ilization. And not only that, but the sweet liberty for 
which they have ever stood, has been desecrated by the 
anarchist, the crank and the fanatic. The things here 
which ushered in the new day in the history of the world 
— the things here that have shown upon the world as the 
dawn of a resplendent day — the things here that were 
written as if upon the sky when Columbus sailed have 
been trampled and spit upon by the crowding, ignorant, 

324 



swarming millions of Europe and the ancient East. It 
is to me a tragedy. It is to me a thing unspeakable that 
we as Americans should tolerate it as we do. 

And as I see America reviled and insulted and spit up- 
on by the foreigner in our very midst, I think of the 
great American who has gone to his reward, and of what 
he would do were he living to-day and at the helm of our 
national government. How long do you think the Bol- 
shevists who preach anarchy and who defy the govern- 
ment would continue to do these things if Roosevelt were 
president of the United States to-day? And the Bolshe- 
vist and ultrasocialist today who defies the government is 
largely the result of the failure of President Wilson to 
deal properly with the Russian situation during the war. 
Had he struck swiftly and vigorously as Roosevelt would 
have done, the Bolshevist problem in America which is 
our heritage from the war as a result of the Wilson 
policy would scarcely be with us to-day. Had the presi- 
dent sent an American army into Russia from the East 
under General Wood, as Roosevelt would have done, in- 
stead of sending a pitiful little handful of men to the 
northern shores of ice-bound Russia and Siberia, the Bol- 
shevist problem might very possibly have been nipped in 
the bud. But as it is, we have it with us to-day, and we 
will have it for many, many years to come. It is "hitting 
soft" as Roosevelt put it, that has caused all of these 
problems to remain over from the war to the extent to 
which they have remained. It is doing everything by 
halves that has left a heritage of problems that will con- 
front our government for many years to come. It is the 
failure to do things adequately and to finish them up at 



325 



the time that will cause our people grief in the future 
years. 

Had Roosevelt been permitted to have had his way, 
the war would have been over much sooner than it was, 
a lasting and splendid friendship would have been 
cemented between the governments of all the allied lands, 
an international court would undoubtedly have been es- 
tablished under the direction of Elihu Root as the repre- 
sentative of our own country, and a new day of which you 
have been speaking would in very truth have been ushered 
in. It would have come in the entire world in the same 
way that it came in America after the Civil War. Grant 
and Lincoln demanded nothing of Lee and his supporters 
less than unconditional surrender, and unconditional sur- 
render was brought about and the great American govern- 
ment has been at peace with its own peoples ever since 
that time, and the chorus of the Union of which Lincoln 
spoke as the result of the mystic chords of memory 
stretching from every battlefield and patriot grave to 
every heart and hearthstone all over this broad land, was 
swelled, as he said that it would be, from one border of 
the land to another. And this to a certain extent would 
have been true throughout the world to-day, after the 
waging of the great World War, had the war been ter- 
minated in the way that I have suggested. That it may 
be anyhow, is the hope that you point out and the idea 
that you suggest, and I have said that this is possible and 
that a beginning has been made in that direction, but the 
beginning would have been more substantial had it been 
made in the Roosevelt way rather than in the Wilson way. 



326 



CHAPTER XXIV. 

XHAVE spoken of the change that has taken place in 
America in regard to the population that has come 
here and in regard to the attitude that these people 
who have come here entertain toward our government. 
Another great change that has taken place in this country 
since I wandered as a young man over its plains and 
prairies of course has been the change due not only to the 
attitude of the people toward the government, but due to 
the very fact of the people themselves. The immense 
population that now lives in America of course has 
brought about a tremendous change. Population is the 
thing in America that as a young man I dreaded. I have 
spoken to a certain extent of the change it has made here, 
but I cannot refrain from further speaking of the wonder- 
ful metamorphosis that has taken place upon the Amer- 
ican continent within the comparatively short space of 
half a century. Even in Iowa the change has been won- 
derful. 

The seasons in Iowa are of course the same but the 
prairie sod, and the prairie flowers and the red man 
and the wild swan and all the clanging array of wild 
fowl are gone. The face of the earth in Iowa has greatly 
changed. Instead of a primitive land sublime in soli- 
tude it now appears as a never ending garden plot divided 
and subdivided by myriad hands. It is primitive no 



327 



more and its inhabitants love it not at all for its own 
sake but merely for the money it will bring. The wild 
Indian loved it more than do its inhabitants today. The 
price of hogs and corn is of greater moment to the 
farmer of Iowa than anything else in the world. He 
cares not for the seasons, except as they nurture and 
mature the crops that make his savings grow. 

But it is yet good to be in Iowa, for in Iowa we have 
in its greatest perfection the most valuable thing in the 
world. We have land — the land that is the greatest asset 
of human kind, the land upon which we must all ulti- 
mately depend. And as it is the most valuable mate- 
rial thing in the world we should love it not alone for its 
material wealth but for its own sake and for the mes- 
sage it brings to the soul. We should love the seasons 
and enjoy them as they come and go. We should love 
the moon and the stars and all of Nature's great and 
simple things. We should love the simple life, the life 
lived on the soil. We should love the lowly cot as well 
as the palace, the soil as well as the pavement, solitude 
as well as the confusion that leads away from spiritual 
things. 

Since we began life in Iowa as pioneers we have 
watched the wonderful advances of civilization in the 
great West. We have seen the wagon trains, the soldiers 
and scouts setting out for the far West. We have seen 
the soldiers of the United States army going into the 
great wilderness of the north and west to garrison the 
little posts on the outskirts of civilization. We have seen 
a vast expansion of business life and population in 
America. Nothing in the world's history ever approached 
the rapid and wonderful development of material re- 

328 



sources that has taken place in the last naif century in 
the United States. The opening and settlement of new 
lands has been unparalleled in the history of the world* 
The buffalo herds that moved northward in the spring 
to their northern grazing grounds soon began to cross the 
double line of steel rails that had been extended from the 
Mississippi to the Pacific's shores. The antelope gazed 
in bewildered curiosity at the unwonted sights and sounds 
that had penetrated the wild regions of solitude. The 
Indians looked over the ridges in mute astonishment at 
the iron horse that crawled westward over the wide land- 
scape. It was not long until the vast buffalo herds began 
to disappear. The land that since creation dawned had 
never known a railroad tie or railway train, began to 
give up its age long characteristics of barbarism. Primi- 
tive, virile, wild things succumbed before the onslaught 
of civilization. In a compartively short space of time the 
buffalo herds practically vanished from the face of the 
earth. The antelope soon followed and only the wolves 
were left to greet the traveler on the plains, and even 
these wild marauders were fast dwindling to insignificant 
numbers. The homesteader, the farmer, the pioneer; the 
real estate agent, the gambler, the soldier, the merchant 
and trader all swarmed in to the great lands where 
wealth abounded beyond the dreams of avarice. The 
prairie sod was turned under by the plow, towns and 
cities rose as by magic upon the plains, the railroad pene- 
trated the remotest regions and the wilderness soon be- 
came subdued by the hand of man. The forest lands re- 
sounded with the ring of axe and saw, the region of trees 
that extended pure, beautiful and immaculate mile after 
mile, untrodden since the world began, except by mocca- 

329 



sin or hoof or claw was denuded and swept clean of Na- 
ture's product which had been nourished for a thousand 
years. 

Rich, pure and wonderful the American continent soon 
resounded from shore to shore with the hum of industry, 
and the roar of traffic. New, alluring and unprecedented 
in its resources it afforded a field for the business world, 
the like of which the world had never before known. 
Parlor cars and luxuriant trains of sleepers and diners 
soon sped across the great plains where the buffalo and 
antelope had formerly roamed and where the Indian had 
ruled supreme. 

The simple, wholesome pleasures of our lives derived 
from living in close communion with Nature we also 
have seen slowly but surely vanish away. In their stead 
we have seen the more complex and the more distracting 
things of civilization grow steadily, but surely, into our 
lives. We have seen the ideals of business and the busi- 
ness world crush out and supplant the things that had 
been vital in our souls. We have seen business and the 
business rule become supreme. We have seen our state 
and nation grow immensely rich. We have seen the na- 
tion lead the world in commercial things. We have seen 
the ideals for which we had fought in our civil war and 
for which our ancestors had fought in the revolutionary 
war to a large extent forgotten. We have seen the pur- 
suit of wealth make our nation mad. We have seen its 
character decline in the eyes of the world. 

We have seen it lose the things in life which Nature 
inspires and we have seen it lose the ideals and the 
spirit of Washington and Lincoln and Grant. But as our 
lives have been drawing to a close as the great era of 

330 



commercial prosperity and material things has reached 
its zenith we have seen a partial return to the ideals that 
have made possible the founding and maintaining of our 
government. We have seen the outbreak of a great 
world war. We have seen the world at Armageddon 
battling for the things of the spirit and for truth and 
righteousness. 

We have seen American wealth make possible the 
winning of the war and we have seen American wealth 
and the American soldier turn the scale in favor of world- 
wide Democracy. We have seen our country ruled once 
more by principle and not by commercial greed. We 
have seen it subordinate wealth for principle and the 
things of the spirit. We have seen it fighting for its 
honor. To the extent that it has turned from the 
worship of sordid materialism to the worship of principle 
and the things of the spirit we are profoundly thankful. 

What then should America be to-day? What is the 
mission of the American citizen to-day? Is it to be a 
follower of Wilson, and is it to be an internationalist, or 
is it to be a follower of the memory of Roosevelt and of 
the things advocated by him and to be an American 
citizen first, last and all the time? Is it to be an advo- 
cate of a weak and sickly internationalism, or is it to be 
an advocate of a strong and virile and vigorous Ameri- 
canism? Which will benefit American most to-day, and 
which will benefit the world most to-day? Certainly to 
follow in the paths where Roosevelt blazed the way will 
benefit America and will benefit the world more than to 
follow in the footsteps of Wilson and of those who have 
been supporters and followers of Wilson. Certainly it 
will benefit America and the world more to-day to "carry 

331 



on" as the expression goes, in the direction outlined by 
Roosevelt than it will to proceed in the direction 
pointed by Wilson. And this is true not only in regard 
to national and international affairs, but also as I have 
said it is true in regard to individualism and individual 
affairs. The life of Roosevelt was unique and very un- 
usual in that it spanned so many different fields and the 
realms of so many different activitives. It was wonder- 
ful in its versatility and in its color and its ability in so 
many different fields of human endeavor. It was virile 
and strong as a mental gymnast, and it was virile, and 
strong as a physical gymnast, and as a physical athlete. 
It was wonderful in both of these fields. And we need 
leadership to-day of the Roosevelt type and we should 
get rid of leadership of the Wilson type. 

Do we as Americans, wish to know simply of indoor 
life, of books and pictures and theories, or do we wish 
to know of the great secrets of the universe as revealed 
by the world of Nature? Do we wish to know of those 
things suggested in the Book of Job, and in the Psalms 
and in the Book of Genesis and of those things suggested 
in the introduction to Mr. Roosevelt's African Book? 
And do we wish to know of life that is wholesome and 
vigorous and lived on the soil as well as of life that is 
lived solely in the office, the library and the classroom? 
Most assuredly we do. Most assuredly we are yet 
Americans and expect to continue to be Americans in the 
future. 

We have had in America a sickening exhibition of 
Wilsonism for the past eight years. We have had Wil- 
sonism during the war, and we have passed under its 
yoke and have been throttled by its silly things. We 

33'2 



have heard the cry "Support the President" all during 
the war, and as good Republicans, though nauseated by 
the cry, and by the things the President advocated, and 
by the way in which he advocated them, we nevertheless 
submitted and supported him. We have heard the cry 
"Support the President" all during the war, when those 
who uttered the cry confounded the President with our 
country. We have heard the cry "Support the President" 
when of course what should have been said was "Support 
the Government of the United States". We have sup- 
ported the president on account of the war when we did 
not believe in him or any of the things that he advocated. 
We have supported him when we did not believe in him 
personally, or as a representative of the government. 
We have paid our taxes without complaint and have sub- 
mitted to an exorbitant levy upon our incomes every- 
where to be expended during the war, but much of which 
was wasted, much of which was not used as it should 
have been used. We have seen the Democratic adminis- 
tration go into power in 1913, elected largely under an 
"economy issue". We have seen a plank in the Democra- 
tic platform previous thereto denouncing what it terms 
"the profligate waste of money wrung from the people by 
oppressive taxation through the lavish appropriations of 
recent Republican congresses". 

And then we have seen the Sixty-Second Congress, 
which had a Democratic majority in the lower house 
and which was elected for the express purpose of cutting 
down expenditures immediately proceed to make a 
"total of appropriations exceeding anything in the Na- 
tion's history" up to that time; and that was before the 
outbreak of the war. These things would not have been 

333 



tolerated in America, and the Democratic administration 
would have been turned out of Washington but for the 
fact of the impending war. President Wilson was re- 
turned to the White House upon the platform of "keep- 
ing us out of war" and fear shackled all our judgment 
and all our reason and we again submitted to the wild 
orgy of expenditure and of foolish and blundering legis- 
lation. The railroads were taken over as a war measure, 
as was practically everything else in the government, and 
under the administration of Mr. McAdoo, they were 
operated at such a tremendous deficit and at such a loss 
that it seems practically impossible to get them back upon 
their old footing. Everything was done to give the 
Democratic administration a free hand, and to allow it 
to do as it pleased, Republicans, as well as Democrats, 
pouring out the funds and allowing the Democrats to 
pour out the public funds upon the theory that they were 
all being used as war measures. But the war is now over 
and we do not have to submit to such things any longer. 
Let Republicans who believe in America and Ameri- 
canism return to power. Let an American president 
be elected who shall be an American, and who shall carry 
out American policies and American ideas. And never 
again let another professor be conducted into office to 
try out his theories upon the American people. Let there 
be an end of blundering, of silly incompetence and of 
education of incompetence at the expense of the public. 
Mr. Baker became Secretary of War at the hands of 
President Wilson, as a Pacifist, but in the experience of 
his office, became converted to a considerable extent to 
the doctrines of Theodore Roosevelt, just as Mr. Wilson 



334 



often came around to those doctrines, but just as with Mr. 
Wilson, he was always just a little too late. 

Senator Harding has been nominated by the Repub- 
licans, and Senator Harding is an American. He is far 
from being the American that Theodore Roosevelt was, 
but no living man is the American that Theodore Roose- 
velt was. No living man has the love of country, the in- 
tense patriotism and the vast ability combined that 
Theodore Roosevelt had. 

Rut Senator Harding is an American and in no sense 
is he an internationalist. He has said : 

"We do not mean to hold aloof. We choose no isola- 
tion. We shun no duty. I like to rejoice in an American 
conscience, and in a big conception of our every obliga- 
tion to liberty and justice and civilization. And more, I 
like to think of Columbia's helping hand to new re- 
publics, which are seeking the blessings portrayed in our 
example, but I have a confidence in our America that re- 
quires no council of foreign powers to point the way of 
American duty. We wish to counsel, co-operate and con- 
tribute, but we arrogate to ourselves the keeping of the 
American continent and every concept of our moral ob- 
ligation. It is fine to idealize, but it is very practical to 
make sure our own house is in perfect order before we 
attempt the miracle of old world stabilization." 

In these words he has stated exactly the position 
which America should occupy to-day. "We do not mean 
to hold aloof. We choose no isolation". Of course these 
words are true. Rut we "require no council of foreign 
powers to point the way of American duty" and "we 
arrogate to ourselves the keeping of the American con- 
tinent and every concept of our moral obligation." 

335 



Democrats make much of our supposed isolation, and 
they say we are holding aloof from the world. Nothing 
could possibly be more silly. We couldn't hold aloof 
and we couldn't be isolated if we tried. But we do 
"arrogate to ourselves the keeping of every concept of 
our moral obligation" and we "require no council of 
foreign powers to point the way of American duty". We 
reserve the right to decide for ourselves the great ques- 
tions of our moral obligations when those questions arise. 

When Germany invaded Belgium, Theodore Roose- 
velt regarded it as our moral obligation to at least pro- 
test against that outrage, but Woodrow Wilson at that 
time regarded it as our duty to remain neutral both in 
deed and thought. When the Lusitania was sunk, Theo- 
dorse Roosevelt regarded it as our moral duty to declare 
war on Germany, but Woodrow Wilson uttered his 
famous statement that there was such a thing as being 
too proud to fight. The difference is that Theodore 
Roosevelt and his followers were mindful of our moral 
obligations when danger threatened and was actually at 
hand, while Woodrow Wilson and his followers were 
only mindful of our moral obligations when the danger 
had passed. 

In which following should we believe, in which 
should we place our faith? Should we believe in those 
who do not fail in their duty when danger is at hand, or 
should we believe in those who fail miserably when 
danger is at hand and who shout and loudly boast when 
the danger has passed? "Every drop of blood in my 
person stands up and shouts at the traditions of the 
United States" said Woodrow Wilson when the war 
was over, but every drop of blood in his person while 

33<6 



Belgium was being invaded and when the Lusitania was 
sunk, showed only an abject and miserable failure to 
comprehend the meaning of the traditions of the United 
States. And in the future it would be the same. When 
danger threatened, the followers of Roosevelt and their 
kind would be on the firing line paying with their bodies 
the price of liberty and freedom and the followers of 
Wilson and their kind would skulk in the rear and use 
every subterfuge to avoid the conflict. And yet with a 
hypocrisy that merits only scorn and with a fraud that 
excites only a just and righteous indignation the followers 
of Wilson charge the followers of Roosevelt with black 
crimes against humanity for refusing voluntarily to en- 
ter into the league of nations proposed and sponsored 
by Woodrow Wilson. 

Should the Wilson league be adopted, the Roosevelt 
followers and the exponents of true Americanism in the 
future would have to guarantee and make good on the 
firing line the contracts and agreements and promises 
made by the followers of Wilson. Is it any wonder that 
true Americans hesitate to enter the league of nations? 
Is it any wonder that they oppose ratification of the 
treaty and the covenant? 

Senator Harding is an American and we should sup- 
port him. He did not support Theodore Roosevelt in 
1912, but during the war he introduced in the Senate an 
amendment to a bill which, had it been adopted would 
have authorized Colonel Roosevelt to organize a division 
and lead it to France. And he has said, "If Theodore 
Roosevelt had been president, the Lusitania would never 
have been sunk, and we should to-day be living under 
the guaranties of peace." 

337 



Let us then support Senator Harding and let us also 
support Governor Coolidge. Mr. Coolidge has said: "The 
first duty of a government is to be true to itself", and he 
has also said: "Don't expect to build up the weak by 
pulling down the strong". And this is exactly what the 
league of nations supporters are trying to do — build up 
the weak by pulling down the strong. 

The Democratic Convention at San Francisco has 
adopted a platform which endorses almost in the minutest 
detail everything that Woodrow T Wilson has done in re- 
gard to the league of nations. It endorses Wilson and 
approves his actions and his words and it condemns the 
Senators who have opposed ratification of the treaty and 
the league. It says: 

"We commend the President for his courage and his 
high conception of good faith in steadfastly standing for 
the covenant agreed to by all the associated and allied 
nations at war with Germany, and we condemn the 
Republican senate for its refusal to ratify the treat} 7 
merely because it was the product of Democratic states- 
manship, thus interposing partisan envy and personal 
hatred in the way of the peace and renewed prosperity 
of the world." 

And it also says: 

"By every accepted standard of international morality 
the President is justified in asserting that the honor of 
the country is involved in this business; and we point to 
the accusing fact that, before it was determined to 
initiate political antagonism to the treaty, the now 
Republican chairman of the senate foreign relations 
committee himself publicly proclaimed that any prop- 
osition for a separate peace with Germany, such as he 

33$ 



and his party associates thereafter reported to the 
senate, would make us 'guilty of the blackest crime.' " 

But this statement of the chairman of the foreign 
relations committee was of course made before the amaz- 
ing program of Woodrow Wilson had been inaugurated 
and before it had become known that he proposed to 
surrender and sacrifice American sovereignty. And of 
course what was said by Republican Senators during the 
war would have little or no application while we are at 
peace. When we were at war any proposition made by 
us looking toward the negotiation of a separate peace 
would indeed have made us "guilty of the blackest 
crime". But when the war is over and we are in fact at 
peace, a separate peace with Germany would not change 
the fact and would in any event be infinitely better than 
a surrender of our sovereignty. 

The Platform continues: 

"May 15 last, the Knox substitute for the Versailles 
treaty was passed by the Republican senate, and this con- 
vention can contrive no more fitting characterization of 
its obloquy than that made in the Forum magazine of 
December, 1918, by Henry Cabot Lodge, when he said: 

"If we send our armies and young men abroad to be 
killed and wounded in Northern France and Flanders 
with no result but this, our entrance into war with such 
an intention was a crime which nothing can justify. 

'The intent of congress and the intent of the President 
was that there could be no peace until we could create a 
situation where no such war as this could recur. We 
cannot make peace except in company with our allies. 
It would brand us with everlasting dishonor and bring 



339 



ruin to us, also, if we undertook to make a separate 
peace." 

Thus to that which Mr. Lodge, in saner moments, con- 
sidered "the blackest crime", he and his party in mad- 
ness sought to give the sanctity of law; that which 
eighteen months ago was of "everlasting dishonor" the 
Republican party and its candidates to-day accept as the 
essence of faith." 

When it is recalled that President Wilson made his 
first trip to Europe in December, 1918, and that the 
famous league covenant of which he is the chief ex- 
ponent, had not, at the time of the writing of the article 
by Senator Lodge, been made public, it will be seen that 
the criticism by the Democratic platform of the Lodge 
statements, is not now in point. And it assumes that the 
Wilson league would put an end to war and that there 
could be no honest difference of opinion on that point. 
And this is to put it mildly. In stronger terms it might 
fittingly be said that the criticism in the platform is a 
hypocritical attempt to pull the wool over the eyes of 
voters by innuendo and inferences not justified by the 
facts. 

And continuing the platform says: 

"We endorse the President's view of our international 
obligations and his firm stand against reservations de- 
signed to cut to pieces the vital provisions of the Ver- 
sailles treaty and we commend the Democrats in con- 
gress for voting against resolutions for separate peace 
which would disgrace the nation. We advocate the im- 
mediate ratification of the treaty without reservations 
which would impair its essential integrity; but do not op- 
pose the acceptance of any reservations making clearer 

340 



or more specific the obligations of the United States to 
the league associates." 

And thus it is that the only thing in the way of reser- 
vations that the Democrats do not object to is "reserva- 
tions making clearer or more specific the obligations of 
the United States to the league associates." Nothing is 
said or suggested about making clearer or more specific 
the obligations of the league associates to the United 
States. 

And then with characteristic Democratic gall the plat- 
form states: 

"During the war President Wilson exhibited the very 
broadest conception of liberal Americanism. In his con- 
duct of the war, as in the general administration of his 
high office, there was no semblance of partisan bias." 

Such brazen misstatement of the facts is comparable 
only to the methods employed by the Germans during 
the war. 

And it is somewhat similar to the Democratic claims 
to exclusive credit for having won the war and to the 
claims to exclusive credit for bringing women's suffrage 
to the position it occupies to-day. All the world knows 
that the Republicans and particularly Theodore Roose- 
velt forced the Democrats into and through the war and 
all the world knows that out of the thiry-five states that 
have ratified the suffrage amendment twenty-nine are 
Republican and only six are Democratic. 

And in regard to the League the platform states the 
vital point upon which Republicans take issue. It says : 

"We reject as utterly vain, if not vicious, the Re- 
publican assumption that ratification of the treaty and 
membership in the League of Nations would in any wise 

Ml 



impair the integrity or independence of our country." 

Assuming of course that this means ratification of the 
treaty without reservations that "alter its meaning" this 
statement in the platform is the one around which the 
battle in the political campaign will be waged. Re- 
publicans say that such a ratification would impair the 
integrity and the independence of our country. Upon 
this issue let the battle proceed. 

Woodrow Wilson controlled the making of the treaty 
and the league covenant and he controlled the writing of 
the league plank adopted in the Democratic platform at 
San Francisco. How much longer shall he control? 
How much longer shall he prevail in our public life? 
Shall he continue to shape our foreign policy or shall 
"Mr. Wilson and his dynasty, his heirs and assigns, or 
anybody that is his, anybody who with bent knee has 
served his purposes * * * be driven from all control, from 
all influence upon the Government of the United States"? 

Governor Cox has been nominated by the Democrats. 
Senator Harding has charged that President Wilson has 
forced upon the Governor acceptance of the league of 
nations issue as the paramount issue in the campaign. 
The Democratic Vice Presidential nominee, Mr. Roose- 
velt, has announced that he will make his campaign 
chiefly upon that issue. 

Senator Harding has said "We are more than willing 
to make the election a national referendum on the ques- 
tion whether we shall have four years more of Democra- 
tic readiness to surrender this republic." 

In reporting the Republican convention at Chicago a 
certain writer has said: 

"Would this Convention have accepted Roosevelt for 

342 



President if he had been alive? Yes, gratefully, on 
bended knee. The most stupid reactionary has learned 
at last that Roosevelt was the great conservative. If 
doubt and fear had listened to him ten years ago, the 
conservative property interests of America would have 
been saved billions of wasted wealth and the world a 
major part of its recent long agony. All Roosevelt was 
after was the social, economic, and moral preparation of 
his beloved country against the class cleavage which he 
foresaw was about to overspread the world, and which 
has now nearly overspread the world." 

We cannot have Roosevelt for our candidate but we 
do have a candidate who is for America first and we 
should give him our unqualified support. 

Americanism and nearly all the things advocated by 
Theodore Roosevelt in his lifetime should be developed 
and carried on in our country to-day. 

And aside from things political the things of the out- 
door world and of outdoor life in America should not be 
allowed to perish and fall into decay. Our people 
should be educated in the things of the outdoor world. 
The life of Roosevelt should ever be a shining and bril- 
liant example in the things of which I have spoken. And 
above all it should ever be our great example in things 
of character and moral principle. Theodore Roosevelt's 
life for thirty years or more was subject every minute of 
the time to the white light of publicity and no flaw and 
no spot has yet been revealed or discovered upon the 
whiteness of his moral character and the purity of his 
individual life. Or if it has at least it has not been 
made public and if it had been discovered it certainly 
would have been made public. He has been accused of 

313 



drunkenness, but that, it seems, has been effectually dis- 
proved. Aside from that, there is nothing that has ever 
been urged against the cleanliness of his private char- 
acter. 

So, then, let us develop the things for which Theodore 
Roosevelt stood, — Americanism, vigorous and true; 
moral character, also vigorous and true, and personal 
cleanliness always. These are the things that as Amer- 
icans we should insist upon having. And Nature should 
be continued in our lives, and should be so continued as 
that the lives of those in the great future in America will 
also get the benefit of Nature and Nature's teachings. 
The immense population that is overflowing the world 
to-day makes this more and more difficult as the years 
are going by. As I have said, it seems that in the great 
future some such conditions of life as the Christian Scien- 
tists believe in must be brought about to the end that 
humanity may survive in the world. How can the world 
forever support an ever increasing and teeming popula- 
tion? And how can the world prevent this population 
from ever increasing? How can it prevent it in 
America from becoming some day as it is in China 
to-day? You say as Mai thus has said, that war, pesti- 
lence and disease will prevent population from increas- 
ing to that extent, but these are the very things that we 
are trying to get rid of and these are the things that we 
must get rid of if humanity shall come into its own. 
And if we would deal with the problems that present 
themselves to-day so as to best lay the foundations for 
the future, we will appreciate more and more the value 
of the things of the soil. We will conserve more and 
more carefully as the days go by the products of Nature's 

344 



thousands and thousands of years of evolutionary toil. 
We will conserve our material resources. 

In the effort to do this, Roosevelt was pre-eminent. 
Everywhere he asserted the power of the Federal 
Government to get control for the people as a whole of 
the products of Nature that were being usurped every- 
where and destroyed by private monopoly. Everywhere 
for the benefit of the great future and for those who are 
to come in the future, he attempted to preserve and to 
hand on to posterity, Nature's products that without 
which humanity can not endure. He did this not only in 
a utilitarian and materialistic way, but he did it also in 
an idealistic way. He was the pioneer in this movement. 
He was the first president to take an active personal in- 
terest in Natural History and the first president that we 
have ever had who was an authority on the subject. 
That the fowls of the air and the fish of the sea and the 
great game and the beasts that wander in the mountains 
and forests might be preserved to give color and inspira- 
tion to the life of our people, he set aside parks and 
monuments, and took the initiative in legislation for 
their preservation. These things we should have in our 
lives more and more as the years are going by. These 
things should be preserved and cared for by people who 
understand and appreciate them as he understood and 
appreciated them. They should not be left to the ten- 
der mercies of those like Woodrow Wilson or of those 
of his type who never have lived on the soil. 



345 



CHAPTER XXV. 

XN 1859 Joe Burgess and I made a trip to Oregon. 
We had returned from the journey on the Santa 
Fe Trail. We had seen John Randolph and his 
wife united here in Iowa. We had spent the winter at 
my Uncle's home, and we again set out westward across 
the plains. This time we went to the vicinity of Omaha, 
and proceeded up the Missouri River by boat and set out 
westward across what is now the State of South Dakota. 
Julia King was of course the inspiration of this journey. 
Salt Lake City was my objective point, and I had hoped 
to see her there and I did see her, but only for a brief 
moment. The British nobleman, Sir Robert, of whom I 
have told you, I also saw there, and because of my dis- 
gust, and because of my pride, and because of the rather 
fatalistic notion which I entertained, of which I have told 
you, I shook the dust of Utah from my feet and pro- 
ceeded westward to the forests of Oregon. 

Before telling of our sojourn in Oregon, however, I 
want to speak briefly of our trip up the Missouri and 
across the plains. We went to Council Bluffs and there 
boarded a river steamer that was laboriously and slowly 
plowing its way up the Missouri river. The water was 
high and boiled and swirled around the bow of our little 
ship. Frequently we saw buffalo floating by on the 
turbid current of the stream and the islands that we 
passed were often found to be repositories for the car- 

346 



casses of the beasts that had drowned while crossing the 
river and had floated down until they had lodged against 
the island's shores. We saw many buffalo and antelope 
from the boat. Occasionally also we saw Indians and 
we felt that the width of the river only saved us from 
attack. Thrilling stories were told us by the captain of 
Indian attacks upon the boat when the water was low 
and the stream narrow. Especially farther up the 
stream the Sioux, he said, were troublesome and he and 
his companions on board had been compelled to fight 
for their lives on more than one occasion. 

Joe Burgess and I left the boat and set out alone 
across what is now the western part of South Dakota to- 
ward the mountains west of Ft. Laramie. Antelope 
thronged over these plains in incredible numbers. 
Prairie flowers at different places along our route 
bloomed in great profusion on the prairie. Sometimes 
we saw buffalo bulls lying in great content upon the 
ground apparently dreaming in the bright sunlight while 
gayly colored flowers grew thickly all about them. The 
shaggy beasts often lay down in a perfect bed of flowers. 

We were camping one day within sight of the moun- 
tains. Nearly a hundred miles away they appeared 
dimly yet impressively in the distance. The air became 
cooler than it had been farther east. It was morning 
and the sun was just rising in the east as we rose from 
our blankets to prepare our breakfast. All the wide 
landscape was flooded with light. Joe Burgess was look- 
ing steadfastly and entirely absorbed at the mountains 
which loomed in the blue haze to the westward. I was 
watching a band of antelope which I saw a half mile or 



347 



more away on the prairie. After a long look at the 
mountains Joe turned toward me quickly. 

"Say," he said, "when the Lord saved up this conti- 
nent for the people who you say repudiated the things of 
the Old World, he sure saved up a good one." 

"He sure did," I replied. 

"It's good to be alive right here, isn't it?" I suggested. 

"Well, I should say it is," replied my companion. 

The breeze was blowing lightly over the high, cool 
prairie. The mountains in gigantic granduer loomed 
silently on the western horizon. We looked long at their 
blue outline on the far-away landscape. They were 
beautiful in their repose. The years of God seemed writ- 
ten on their tremendous peaks. Grand, silent, awe-in- 
spiring, they had appeared out of the western haze like 
sentinels of the ages, keeping watch in the long stretches 
of eternity. 

"The Lord created a wonderful world," I suggested. 

"He sure did," said Joe. 

"He sure did," he continued, "when he created 
America and those," and he jerked his thumb toward the 
far distant mountains. 

For days and days and weeks and weeks we traveled 
westward until we reached the forests of Oregon. We 
had been there but a short time when we pitched our 
camp on the shore of a mountain lake. It was cool and 
refreshing. The terrible heat of the deserts we had 
passed through seemed as a horrible dream. I listened 
to the waves lapping the sandy beach and heard the 
breeze in the fir trees. We had had a splendid supper 
and were wrapped snugly in our blankets. The stars 
twinkled overhead and their reflected light shone here 

348 



and there upon the lake. It was the most delightful 
region, it seemed to me, that there was upon the 
American continent. We had penetrated far through 
the immense forests and mountain chains. We had 
come out of the forest upon shores of lakes that we 
flattered ourselves had never been seen by the eye of 
white man before. We felt that we looked upon lakes 
and mountains and forests that had known no sight and 
heard no sound through many centuries but the sights 
and sounds of the wilderness in solitude. Straight and 
tall the big trees rose up from the shore and extended 
darkly over mountain solitudes mile after mile. Clean, 
fresh, immaculate, the whole grand panorama of forest, 
mountains and lakes stretched away over a vast dis- 
tance. The white peaks of the widely scattered but 
stupendous summits that stood out from all the sur- 
rounding mountains took on added lustre and sublimity 
because of their solitary immensity. It was my delight 
to stand at sunset by the great Columbia river and watch 
the sun's rays fade over the dark forests while its fires 
still played on the snowy summits of grand sentinels to 
the north and south. I had seen but one land that 
rivaled Iowa in my estimation and this was that land. I 
loved those lakes, those whispering trees and those sub- 
lime mountain tops. It seemed as if I could live forever 
on the shores of some one of those waters; it seemed as 
if I would never tire of looking at the trees, the lakes 
and mountains. 

I sank to sleep with the sound of the waves and the 
wind in my dreams. I slept as I had never slept before. 
Down into the depths of the primitive world my soul de- 
scended and drew from those depths the wine of life. I 

349 



was sleeping in the mountains of which I had dreamed 
when I first came to Iowa when I slept on the banks of 
the little stream in the woods just west of Des Moines. 
I had my health, I had the solitudes of Nature for my 
surroundings, and I was happy except for the fact that I 
had not yet won Julia King. I dreamed again of the 
splendid physical world, of Nature's masterpieces. The 
panorama of the Pacific Northwest was one and Julia 
King was another. 

While crossing the Blue mountains of Oregon on our 
way westward we had come upon a remarkable family. 
A white trader had married a Umatilla squaw. They had 
ten children, four boys and six girls. The boys were 
handsome fellows, tall and strong. One of them, named 
Jim, I became particularly acquainted with and I had oc- 
casion later on to be profoundly thankful for his friend- 
ship. The girls were to me a new type of beauty. Their 
Indian lineage was scarcely perceptible, appearing only 
in a strange fascinating olive tint in the complexion and 
in long, straight hair that was black as night. They, like 
their brothers, were tall and handsome. Their figures 
were lithe and supple as the panthers's and their senses 
were as keenly alert. Their parents were large and of a 
strong and vigorous type. 

We watched this remarkable family with the greatest 
interest during the few days which we encamped near 
their home. The father, among other things, raised horses 
and sold or traded them to the Mormons in Utah. He 
was a shrewd trader and a man of great practical busi- 
ness capacity. 

To my surprise I found that the trader and one of his 
daughters (Verona by name) were acquainted with 

350 



Judge King. The particular daughter in question was 
introduced to me. She fairly took my breath. Her 
figure, her features, her color, all seemed faultless. I 
had never seen a more perfect type except in the person 
of Julia King. She said she knew Julia King, and I after- 
ward learned that she knew her very well indeed and 
had befriended her on more than one occasion. She 
had warned her against the Mormons and in fact had 
saved her from being entrapped by some of them into a 
most nefarious design. A fast friendship, I afterwards 
learned had grown up between Miss King and this amaz- 
ingly beautiful child of the forest. 

And this family of which I have told you, had much 
to do with my quest for the hand of Julia King, and my 
contest with Harry Lee. 

After having spent the winter in Oregon we set out 
eastward once more and arrived home in the fall of 1860. 
On the way back we stopped at Salt Lake City, but at 
that particular time Julia King was not at home, having 
gone with her father to a distant part of the territory 
where he was holding court. I did not wait for her re- 
turn, but proceeded eastward to Iowa. 

When we arrived here we heard on every hand dis- 
cussion of the momentous issues of Civil War. War 
seemed inevitable, and I knew that I would take part in 
it if it came. 

I was proud of the country in which I lived and be- 
lieved firmly that to disrupt the union would be a great 
calamity to the western world. I had only one thought 
on the question of slavery and that was that it should 
not exist and that it was a disgrace to the nation. I be- 
came indignant whenever it was suggested that it should 

351 



be extended into hitherto non-slaveholding territories, 
and I always resolved to fight whenever the cowardly 
and nefarious talk of the Copperheads reached my ears. 

John Randolph had said if war came that he would 
enlist in the cause of the Union and I had long before 
made up my mind very definitely that I would also. 

Donald Moore had expressed himself in a similar 
manner, and the following year all of us entered the army 
to fight for the Union's cause. 

The family of Julia King, I am sorry to say, at that 
time was divided in its allegiances. Her brothers were 
intense admirers of Albert Sidney Johnston and subse- 
quently joined the Confederate army under his command. 

Her father, however, took a different stand. He was 
strongly for the Union and believed that it should be 
maintained at any cost. His position in this matter 
governed his conduct very largely when he accepted the 
appointment of Federal Judge for one of the districts of 
Utah as he believed that the Mormons were defying the 
Government and opposed the Union. He considered 
Albert Sidney Johnston as a rebel and traitor and was 
disgusted and disappointed beyond measure when his 
three sons joined the Confederate army and went with 
Johnston to the South to fight for the confederate cause. 

As for myself, I enlisted in the 15th Iowa Infantry, 
and in the spring of 1862, I found myself at Pittsburg 
Landing, at the battle of Shiloh, and there a very remark- 
able thing happened to me. I was taken prisoner at the 
battle of Shiloh, and one of the first men I saw of the 
Confederate army was a young officer whom I recognized 
as a brother of Julia King. When General Johnston 
(who immediately prior to the outbreak of the war had 

362 



commanded the department of the Pacific) left his post 
in the west and hastened south, the brothers of Julia King 
went with him. The General was killed at Shiloh and 
the young men lost their idol. 

The young men, of course, were wrong in fighting for 
the Southern cause but in view of what happened dur- 
ing and after the war I have always been glad that they 
did so. I had not been long a prisoner within the Con- 
federate ranks until the young officer of whom I have 
spoken, informed me that he had information of the 
death of his father at the hands of the Mormons. A pony 
express rider, he said, had brought the news to St. Joseph 
of the death of Federal Judge King. He then took me 
into his confidence and told me that if I wanted to escape 
from the Confederate army that he would assist me in 
the attempt. His sister, Julia, he said, had, according to 
the report, married an Englishman who had assisted her 
in making her escape from the Mormons after the death 
of her father, but he added, that he very much doubted 
the story. But if I wanted to attempt getting across the 
plains for the purpose of rendering some possible serv- 
ice to his sister, he said that he would see to it that I 
should make good my escape from the Confederate lines. 
It was therefore but a remarkably short time until I was 
free again and on my way to the first state station at the 
eastern edge of the great plains. 



353 



CHAPTER XXVI. 

^^^HE JOURNEY across the plains was made at the 
^^y time when the famous pony express was operating 
from St. Joseph, Missouri, to Sacramento, and San 
Francisco, California. The history of that express is 
probably well known, but I shall state briefly that the 
equipment of the express consisted of some five hundred 
horses, and that there were a hundred and ninety stations 
between the terminations of the routes, and that some two 
hundred men were required to care for the stations, and 
that about eighty riders were employed to do the actual 
work of riding the horses and carrying the mail. The 
distance of the route covered by the express from St. 
Joseph to Salt Lake City was approximately twelve hun- 
dred miles, and from St. Joseph to Sacramento, was ap- 
proximately two thousand miles. On the whole route the 
express riders have been known to make an average of 
two hundred and fifty miles per day, riding of course night 
and day through sunshine and storm, and over all kinds 
of roads and paths and highways. Each rider had a divi- 
sion of from a hundred to a hundred and forty miles, with 
relays of horses at distances varying from twenty to 
twenty-five miles and some portions of the route were 
covered at a speed of twenty-five miles per hour. The 
riders went equipped to battle to the death against the 
marauding Indians that infested the way, and against 
the white robbers and highwaymen that held them up 

354 



when opportunity afforded. William Cody, better known 
as Buffalo Bill, was one of the famous pony express 
riders. Many a hair-raising exploit was told of him while 
he was riding over the famous trail. 

The riders seldom if ever carried rifles, but only re- 
volvers and knives and the mail that was carried was 
written or printed on tissue paper to reduce its weight. 
The accomplishment of the express riders was really a 
wonderful achievement. The shortest time made from 
New York to San Francisco up to the time of the estab- 
lishment of the express had been twenty-one days. After 
the establishment of the express, that time was promptly 
reduced to ten days, the last message of President Bu- 
chanan being carried from St. Joseph to Sacramento in 
the remarkable time of eight days, and President Lin- 
coln's first inaugural was carried in the still more re- 
markable time of seven days and seventeen hours. Of 
course a stage route was also at that time running over 
the Old Oregon Trail, and it was a stage that I began my 
journey in, when I started West to rescue, if possible, Julia 
King from the hands of the Mormons, or from Harry Lee, 
or from the Indians, or from whatever enemy into whose 
hands she might have fallen. The journey was an ex- 
tremely nerve-racking and trying one. 

You who have crossed the plains on transcontinental 
trains know not what it is to cross them in a stage coach. 
The landscape seems so very vast, the progress seems so 
very slow that the journey appears to be interminable. 
We heard the wolves at night, saw them frequently by 
day, and felt and sensed the great loneliness as our coach 
rattled along over the immensity of the land that 
stretched away apparently without end. Indians we saw 

355 



occasionally, and antelope and buffalo very frequently. 
The wildness of the scene constantly in view impressed 
itself upon me (accustomed as I was to the plains) as 
never before. The loneliness seemed oppressive. I had 
an unexplainable feeling that I could not shake off that 
we would be attacked. Our coach and horses and men 
seemed so infinitesimally small as we jolted along with- 
out a living thing in sight but wild animals which now 
and then came in view. North, south, east and west as 
far as the eye could see there was not a house, not a 
human being or even another stage or a wagon train to 
relieve the wild, barbaric appearance of the primitive 
landscape. 

However, we were not attacked, and in due time we 
reached the mountains. When we arrived there I be- 
came so impatient with the seemingly slow progress of 
the stage that I determined to ride the pony express 
route myself as far as possible for the rest of the journey. 
It chanced that at one of the stations I came upon an ex- 
press rider whom I knew and I managed to prevail upon 
him to let me ride his route. My anxiety and dread, I 
suppose, were written upon my features, for the rider, 
who was really a friend of mine, after hearing my story 
in which I told him why I had come West at that partic- 
ular time, consented to allow me to take his place in rid- 
ing the next relay. 

The station was in the mountains and not far from 
the cabin which Frank Perkins and his associates had 
built when returning from California. But as luck would 
have it, I was attacked by Indians while riding the ex- 
pressman's route and while I reached the next station 
and brought the mail through safely, I received a bullet 

356 



wound which made it necessary for me to remain at the 
station a few days for the purpose of recovery. 

While I was at the stage station I talked with the pony- 
express riders that stopped there. In addition to the 
pony express the history of the express business in the 
Northwest in general is a very interesting one. The gold 
mines were being opened in the mountains, towns were 
springing up and valuable mail and parcels had to be 
transported through the mountains for many miles. 
Holdups were very frequent. Stages and express mes- 
sengers were held up everywhere and highwaymen be- 
came extremely bold and insolent. Aside from the car- 
riers of the United States mail most of the riders who 
were entrusted with valuable packages were private car- 
riers who worked for themselves alone. These private 
express and mail carriers penetrated the mountain fast- 
nesses and operated between the mining camps and stage 
stations and other outlets leading toward civilization. 
They were often held up and robbed and those who 
undertook to get out of the mountains carrying their own 
gold were also frequently made the prey of highwaymen 
and road agents. As a result of these depredations of 
the criminal element vigilance committees were organized 
and the desperadoes and highwaymen were hunted down 
and summarily dealt with until a semblance of law and 
order prevailed. 

While at the station I also heard much concerning the 
exploits of Wm. Cody or Buffalo Bill, who was at that 
time one of the pony express riders and whose name 
had even then become famous as the name of a fearless 
and daring man. 

Also while I was there I was told something still more 

3157 



interesting. It was that a white man and an Indian had 
stopped there a few days before. I asked eagerly which 
way they had been going and was informed that they 
had been going west. I asked many questions and in a 
short time I was convinced that the white man was Frank 
Perkins and that his companion was the Pawnee chief, 
whom I had come to know so well. I was overjoyed to 
know that they were in the mountains to the westward 
and I had no doubt but that they were after Harry Lee. 

The days dragged by. My wound was not one that 
would cause permanent injury, but it was one from which 
it would necessarily take a good many days and even 
weeks to completely recover. I was impatient to be off 
on the trail again. What might be happening at any 
moment to Julia King filled me with dread and horror. 
Before I was completely well therefore, I saddled up and 
was just ready to mount and ride toward Salt Lake City 
again when a large, strongly built, swarthy fellow with 
broad shoulders and large, white teeth and black eyes 
rode up to the station and dismounted. His hair was 
black as night and straight and of a heavy texture. He 
was deep-chested and big-boned. He wore a high 
crowned felt hat with a broad rim. As he walked with 
a swinging stride toward the station house I recognized 
him as Jim, the half-breed whom we had met in the Blue 
mountains on our trip to Oregon. He recognized me at 
the same time and his white teeth gleamed as he smiled 
and extended his hand. He was a son of the trader who 
frequently made trips to the Mormon country to sell to 
or trade with the Mormons. He was, of course, also a 
brother of the half-breed girl who was the friend of Julia 
King. As I shook his hand I asked him why he was so 

3'58 



far from home and what he was doing in that particular 
locality. He then informed me that he was looking for 
his sister; that she had disappeared from Salt Lake City 
with the Judge's daughter soon after he had been killed 
by the Mormons. The mild interest I had taken in Jim, 
the half-breed, as he came walking up to me, was sud- 
denly augmented to an interest that was overwhelming 
both to him and me. I fairly shouted my surprise and 
plied him with a thousand questions. Was Sir Robert or 
Harry Lee with the Judge's daughter? How long had she 
been gone from the Mormon city and in what direction 
had she gone? Could she keep from starving in the 
mountains and could she escape the attacks of wild beasts 
and Indians? Could she keep her directions and not get 
lost? And how long would it take her to reach Fort 
Laramie if she could manage to supply herself with the 
necessities of life and escape the Indians and wild beasts? 

To all these questions Jim, the half-breed, at first 
made scarcely any reply. He smiled broadly and know- 
ingly, and then he assured me that his sister was an 
Indian and that Indians never got lost in the mountains 
and that they seldom starved or fell victims to wild 
beasts or the elements. 

"And you think they have come in this direction?" I 
asked. Jim nodded again. Just then a pony express rider 
came riding in from the west. He was twelve hours be- 
hind his schedule and everyone at the station crowded 
around him to hear what had caused his delay. A band 
of Mormons and Indians were in the mountains a short 
distance to the west, he said. He had been held up and 
robbed, the contents of his saddle bags had been stolen 
and he had been taken a prisoner to their camp. His 

359 



hearers expressed surprise that the Mormons should still 
harbor sufficient resentment against the government to 
go into the mountains to hold up and rob an express 
rider. 

"It isn't that", quickly retorted the rider, "it isn't that. 
What they are after is the daughter of the Judge they 
killed sometime ago." 

I was then told of the circumstances that led to 
the murder of Judge King. He had not been killed 
by the Mormons as I had been informed by his son 
at Shiloh, but had been apparently murdered by a 
man whose wrath he had incurred by a decision 
which he had handed down while holding court. And 
this man who had committed the murder, I afterwards 
found had become a great friend of Harry Lee and that 
together they had planned the capture of Julia King. 
The man's name was Sutherland, and he was a person 
of immense physical strength and tremendous propor- 
tions. He stood six feet and four inches in height and 
weighed over two hundred and forty pounds, and was a 
veritable giant. His temper and disposition were much 
in keeping with his physical appearance, which was that 
of a vicious and brutal man, and he had become famous 
throughout the territory for a record of criminality and 
brutality. When Judge King handed down his decision, 
or rather when he began to read it in court, Sutherland 
and his wife were both present in the court room. The 
decision involved the right of Sutherland and his wife to 
some very valuable mining property and the decision was 
against them and forfeited their rights to the property 
entirely. As the Judge proceeded with his reading Suther- 
land began threatening him with violence to such an ex- 

360 



tent that he had to be removed by the United States 
Marshal from the court room. Sutherland, of course, 
vowed vengeance on Judge King, and the following night 
the Judge was murdered in his home, having been killed 
by a charge of buckshot fired through the window of his 
dwelling. Enormous tracks were found in the loose soil 
about the Judge's home in the morning, and all the cir- 
cumstances of the case pointed to the fact that the deed 
had been committed by Sutherland. 

One very strange feature of the case, however, which 
no one at the time could understand was that Mrs. Suther- 
land on the following day was found murdered in her 
home with her throat cut from ear to ear. 

After hearing these things related to me I was of 
course greatly depressed. But I had not yet heard the 
complete story. The express rider then went on to say 
that the Judge's daughter had escaped from the Mormons 
in company with an English Nobleman whom she had 
married and that the Englishman had paid with his life 
for rescuing and marrying the girl and that in his opinion 
the very man and his accomplice who had murdered the 
Judge, then had the Judge's daughter in their possession 
in the mountains. 

"Why do you think that?" I asked. 

"Because I have seen the Englishman's outfit only a 
little way west of here along the trail, plundered, and de- 
spoiled and the Englishman, himself, lying dead by the 
side of the creek that runs at the side of the trail. I was 
myself, held up and robbed by Sutherland and Lee and 
spent one night at their camp, and I saw the horses that 
they had taken from the plundered outfit and some of 
the bedding and clothing. And if Sutherland and Lee 

361 



aren't the fellows who killed Judge King then I am badly 
mistaken," said the express rider. 

"Did you see Miss King?" I asked. 

"No", said my informant, "she was not there and Lee 
did not spend the night there, but I have seen the body 
of the Englishman and some female apparel scattered 
about where the robbery and murder was committed and 
I considered that sufficient evidence to prove what I have 
told you." 

"I suppose Lee had the girl at some other camp he 
had made farther back from the trail," he said as he 
rose and left me staring after him. 



362 



CHAPTER XVII. 

^^^HE NEXT day Jim and I mounted our horses and 
V^ r °d e to tne place of which I had been told by the ex- 
press rider. There we found evidence of a crime 
that was most revolting and that sent my spirits to the 
lowest ebb. There seemed no doubt of the truth of my in- 
formant's statements. We found a dead body lying partly 
in and partly out of the stream. It was, however, in such 
a state of decomposition that I was unable to satisfy my- 
self that it was the body of the Englishman. It was ap- 
parently the body of some one very near his height and 
weight, but further than that I could not tell definitely 
as to its identity. That the wagon and contents had be- 
longed to him and Julia King, however, I could not doubt. 
I saw articles of clothing and other things scattered about 
that I knew had been the property of Sir Robert, and I 
saw things in the wagon that I recognized as having once 
been the belongings of Julia King. I sat down upon a 
rock by the side of the little stream weak and faint and 
gave way to the most depressing and overcoming emo- 
tions. How long I sat thus, I do not know, but as I began 
to gather my faculties and energy preparatory to getting 
up and mounting my horse I noticed something lying at 
the bottom of the stream and near the middle of the 
creek bed. I saw it distinctly through the clear water. 
It was a small trunk. I waded in and pulled it out of 
the water. I opened it and the first thing I saw was a 

3C3 



dress which Julia King had worn the last time I saw her. 
With trembling hands I examined the different articles 
that I found. At the bottom of the trunk I came upon 
an old daguerreotype of Nellie King like one I had seen 
in my Uncle's home in Iowa. I sat down again sick at 
heart. What a terrible fate had befallen Julia King. I 
looked around me and saw further evidence of the bar- 
barity of those into whose hands she had fallen. I saw 
a mattress with a large blood spot in the middle, and as 
I looked around I found an axe with blood on it and with 
human hair and a piece of scalp sticking in the dried 
blood. Truly Sir Robert had been foully murdered, and 
— but I would not lei myself think of what had befallen 
Julia King. And could it be true that she had married 
Sir Robert? The evidence was indisputable that she had. 
All my life now seemed a worthless, aimless thing. A 
thing destined to go on without purpose and without 
hope. The light of my life had gone out. Scarcely 
knowing what I did I mounted my horse and Jim and I 
rode back to the station. That night I covered my head 
with my blankets and wished that I might die, but when 
morning came I saw how base I had been and realized 
that it was my duty to rescue Julia King from the in- 
famous Lee, no matter if she had married Sir Robert and 
no matter if she had forgotten me. 

Jim, however, insisted that the express rider's story 
about Miss King coming east with Sir Robert could not 
be true. In spite of all the evidence we had seen by the 
trail he steadfastly insisted that the object of our search 
had not left Utah in the Englishman's company. 

I recalled what the express rider had said about the 
death of Mrs. Sutherland, and as I spoke of it to my corn- 
s' 



panion he at once said the deed had been done by the 
Umatilla girl. 

Possibly after all Jim's contentions were true. As I 
talked with him more and questioned him further he told 
me that Sutherland had killed his father and that that 
was an additional reason, or indeed, the principal rea- 
son for the revenge taken upon Mrs. Sutherland. He 
said Sutherland and his father had had an altercation 
some time before and that as a result thereof Sutherland 
had shot his father in a cowardly manner from ambush 
when his victim had no knowledge of his presence in the 
vicinity and no opportunity to defend himself. 

Jim and I discussed for some time what was best for 
us to do. We decided to remain in that vicinity. If Jim's 
belief were true that Julia King and Verona were travel- 
ing together and that neither of them had left Salt Lake 
City with Sir Robert, then the probabilities were that they 
were safe and on their way to Ft. Laramie. If it were 
not true then it was our duty to stay where the robber 
band was staying and to ascertain if possible whether the 
object of our search was within their power. 

Accordingly my friend and I began a systematic 
search of the surrounding mountains in an endeavor to 
find Sutherland and Lee and their associates. 

Jim informed me that there was quite a large band 
of them and that some Indians were also apparently with 
them. He saw signs of them that indicated their associa- 
tion with the white outlaws. Apparently Lee had gather- 
ed together a dozen or more desperadoes and several 
Indians for the purpose of holding up and robbing ex- 
press riders and stages and gold miners. 

One night as we sat in the deep shadows of the trees 

365 



after we had followed a trail nearly all day through the 
mountains, we suddenly saw a light flicker up across the 
valley on the opposite mountain-side. Jim caught my 
arm and pointed as the light shown out in the pitchy 
darkness. As we looked we saw that the light shone 
through the door of a building. Jim said it was a little 
hut or cabin on the mountain-side. While we were in- 
tently watching we saw the figure of a man pass between 
the light and the door. Then again we saw another figure 
and still another momentarily obstruct our view of the 
light as the occupants of the little structure passed be- 
tween the light and the door. 

As I looked, the thought that Julia King might be held 
a prisoner in the building came over me. I grasped my 
rifle and strode toward the light which we had been so 
intently watching. I had gone but a little way when Jim 
overtook me and laid a restraining hand upon my arm. 
After a moment's heated discussion he persuaded me to 
remain where I was while he should approach the log 
house and ascertain if possible whether or not Julia King 
was held a prisoner there. 

For a period of time that seemed to me an age Jim 
reconnoitered the building. At length he returned and 
informed me that Miss King was not there. He had 
passed clear around the building, he said, and had looked 
in at the open door and through the cracks in the walls 
and he had seen no sign of her and he was sure she was 
not there. 

He said there were six men in the house and as he 
watched them they began playing cards. They sat 
around a block or piece of a log upon which they placed 
the cards. 

366 



"Was Harry Lee there?" I asked impulsively. 

But as Jim did not know Harry Lee he could not an- 
swer, but he said there was no one there who answered 
my description of Lee. This was undoubtedly a part of 
Lee's gang, nevertheless, and if Julia King was in Lee's 
power I felt sure they would know it and with the inten- 
tion of finding out if she had been captured by him and 
if so where she might be I again jumped to my feet and 
strode toward the building. Jim again laid a restrain- 
ing hand upon my arm but this time I would not be 
stopped and I made my way straight to the door of the 
log house. The men inside were talking and swearing at 
their game. I stepped lightly to the door and drawing 
my revolver rapped loudly on the logs. The talking and 
swearing instantly ceased and a deathly stillness per- 
vaded the room. Then slowly one of the men rose from 
where he was sitting and with drawn revolver walked 
slowly to the door. When he came up to me I made no 
effort at resistance and as he ordered me to throw up my 
hands I at once complied. I was slowly admitted to the 
circle of thugs, deadbeats and desperadoes. They were 
a hard lot. I shall never forget the scowling counte- 
nances that confronted me. I was disarmed and all my 
weapons were appropriated by the man who had ad- 
mitted me to the circle. 

For an hour or more I sat in the log house with those 
rascals, endeavoring to find out if they knew anything of 
the whereabouts of Julia King. I pretended to be an out- 
law myself and a fugitive from justice and felt for a while 
that my deception was successful, but I obtained no di- 
rect information concerning the object of my search. I 
suggested that I join their gang and was doing very well 

36-7 



with the idea when the door opened and Sutherland and 
Harry Lee walked in. The look of consternation Lee 
gave me was soon succeeded by one of great glee. His 
wicked, cynical, evil smile w r reathed his countenance. 
Sutherland looked from Lee to me and from me to Lee 
again. I confess I shuddered w T hen his immense frame, 
topped by as savage and cruel a face as I have ever seen, 
confronted me. I edged slowly toward the door and was 
upon the point of dashing out when Lee quickly stepped 
in front of me and placed a six shooter almost in my face. 
He looked at me smilingly and w T ickedly and was open- 
ing his mouth to speak when a slight sound attracted his 
attention and he turned toward the door and found him- 
self looking into the muzzle of a revolver w T hile another 
waved ominously from one member of the gang to an- 
other. I looked in the direction of the sound as Lee had 
done and saw my good friend Jim with set jaw and blaz- 
ing eye covering the whole cutthroat gang with his guns. 
I slipped past Lee, taking his gun from his hand and 
another from his belt as I passed. I then added my 
newly acquired weapons to Jim's covering action and to- 
gether w T e backed out of the door. 

As we disappeared in the darkness the whole bandit 
crew rushed after us firing as they ran. Their bullets 
did no damage, however, and they soon desisted from the 
attack as a few shots from us in return seemed to be 
more effective than those fired at us, though we did not 
know whether any of the band had actually been hit. 

We speculated a great deal upon the discovery that 
we had made or rather upon the discovery that we had 
failed to make. We now knew that Sutherland and Lee 
w T ere at the head of a band of outlaws in that immediate 

368 



vicinity and we had no doubt that they were there pri- 
marily for the purpose of making a captive of Julia King, 
but where Julia King might be and what the chances 
were of our finding her we did not know. 

I then told my companion of the log house which had 
been built by Frank Perkins and his associates on their 
return from the Pacific coast a few years before. It 
chanced to be but a mile or so westward from where we 
happened to be at that time. I told him of its situation 
on the plateau above the canyon through which flowed 
the mountain stream. He was much interested as I de- 
scribed the house and its location and expressed it as his 
opinion that it was important that we go there as soon 
as possible. The objects of our search might be there 
using the little building as a refuge from which to hold 
off their adversaries. 

We therefore started at once for the cabin. The 
moon was high in the heavens as we threaded our way 
through the labyrinth of trees and it was shining brightly 
as we neared the clearing on the plateau. As we arrived 
there, however, we discovered that our enemies had ar- 
rived there before us. Evidently they had set out at 
once for the cabin after we had made good our escape 
from the little building which constituted their rendez- 
vous, while we had delayed while discussing what might 
be best to do. 

I shall not forget the strange, weird sensations that 
came over me as we approached the open space in front 
of the log house. The moon was flooding the little clear- 
ing with light, while on every side the trees and shadows 
loomed up in inky blackness. Down in the canyon the 



369 



little stream was brawling over the rocks and the sound 
of the water came to our ears as we stole silently among 
the trees. We had proceeded but a little way when we 
heard a twig snap telling us plainly of the presence of 
at least one of the outlaw band. We crouched down 
and listened and while we waited to see what would hap- 
pen the sound of voices came distinctly to our ears. I 
listened intently and clearly distinguished the voice of 
Harry Lee, and then I heard the voice of Julia King 
calmly and dispassionately tell Harry Lee that if he 
came a step nearer that she would step over the precipice 
and fall to the stream below. 

The words made my flesh creep and my blood boil. I 
stepped quickly forward and to one side to a point where 
I could see the figures of Harry Lee and Julia King 
sharply outlined in the moonlight. I saw my own Julia 
King, beautiful and stately, in the pale light of the moon 
standing on the very brink of the chasm that yawned in 
empty space 300 feet to the rocks below. And I saw the 
infamous Lee taking advantage of her lack of protection 
in the lonely mountains standing facing her and talking 
to her in his smooth oily way. He was arguing with her 
and flattering her and trying to entice her into believing 
that he meant her no harm. He was smiling and talking 
in his blandest manner, but the queenly Julia held her 
head high and gazed upon him with contempt and dis- 
dain. My heart pounded and thumped in my breast and 
I felt my whole being swell with pride as I saw her 
ignore his flattery and his fair promises. She looked 
upon him as though he were beneath contempt. But as 
I looked he was slowly bending toward her and slowly 
lifting his foot to take another step and the splendid girl 

370 



was slowly lifting her moccasined foot to take another 
step toward the edge of the canyon wall. I was lifting 
my rifle and was taking careful aim and was just on the 
point of pressing the trigger when a shot suddenly rang 
out in my rear with a noise that woke the echoes of the 
moonlit mountains far and near and the faithful Jim fell 
dead at my side. A bullet had struck him in the back of 
the head and the fine fellow fell without a quiver. 

The shot momentarily disconcerted me and I missed 
Harry Lee, but I dropped my rifle and was upon him in a 
flash. He whirled and shot at me as I rushed from 
among the trees but his aim was no better than mine 
and he missed me as I had missed him. The moonlight 
and the shadows evidently caused him to miss his mark 
as I rushed headlong upon him. In the twinkling of an 
eye I had him in my grasp. I saw his evil, wicked eyes 
looking at me as he looked at me in Adel where I en- 
countered him six years before, and I saw that he wel- 
comed the chance of a struggle with me as he did then. 
But a surprise was in store for Harry Lee. I was an 
entirely different opponent from the one he met in Adel 
on that spring day when I had first come to Iowa. Six 
years on the prairie and in the mountains had done won- 
ders for me. I had been made anew, and Harry Lee 
soon found it out. Up and down the clearing, across and 
back, we struggled and toiled. Julia King, I knew, was 
looking on. I felt the inspiration of her presence and I 
recalled how she had witnessed my ignominious defeat 
upon the street of the little town six years before. I was 
a different man from what I had been then, but had I 
not been, the sight which I had just witnessed and the 
knowledge of the presence of the lady of my heart would 



have given me the strength of a mad man. I crushed 
Harry Lee to the ground and my fingers gripped his 
throat. A fiendish glee filled my long-harried soul. I 
would hear the death gasp of the man who was in my 
power and I would kill him with my hands. I would 
choke him until the breath of life was nearly gone and I 
would then throw him over the precipice to the fate 
which he had so nearly brought upon Julia King. But 
as I held him completely within my power and as the 
struggle ceased bullets whistled past my head and I was 
compelled to dash quickly to cover while Harry Lee 
sought the protection of his friends. Under the trees in 
the deep shadows I found Julia King. A low whistle told 
me where she was and in a moment I was at her side. 
To speak of my love for her would be to speak of the 
infinite. It would be to speak of the boundlessness of 
space and of time and eternity. It would be to tell of the 
undying light of the heavens and the pure, sweet glory 
of the stars. For a moment I was oblivious of all danger 
but it was for a moment only. I felt a hand upon my 
arm and I looked suddenly into the dark but finely 
chiseled countenance of Verona, the Umatilla girl. 

I then hurriedly enquired of the events that had tran- 
spired which had caused Miss King to be forced to the 
brink of the precipice and which had at that moment 
brought the Indian girl to our sides. I was informed 
that Lee and Sutherland and their gang had broken in 
the door of the log house in which they had taken refuge 
and that as they attempted to enter that the Umatilla 
girl had killed two of the gang. That in attempting to 
escape Miss King had been caught and disarmed b}' Lee, 
but that she had broken away from him in the struggle 

372 



and had gone to the precipice to end her life rather than 
to fall into his control. The Indian girl had escaped but 
had been forced to go in a different direction. Suther- 
land and a part of the gang had pursued her but she soon 
eluded them in the forest on the mountain-side and had 
returned to find Miss King. Her pursuers were at that 
moment, she said, seeking her among the trees. 

The death of Jim cast a cloud upon what would have 
been a most delightful moment. It was the only thing 
that tempered our otherwise boundless joy. The Indian 
girl urged us with all the power of her persuasive ability 
to go, on account of the dangers that surrounded us, but 
upon no account could she be prevailed upon to accom- 
pany us. She would remain and get revenge for the 
death of Jim. 

Accordingly as the moon was going down and as that 
dark hour that precedes the dawn enveloped the moun- 
tains Julia King and I stole down the mountain-side to- 
ward the trail that led to the station. We had little fear 
of the white rascals that formed a part of the gang of Lee 
and Sutherland for we felt that we could successfully 
elude them, but we feared greatly the Indians who were 
with the gang, for we felt that our knowledge of wood- 
craft and our ability to keep concealed would not be 
sufficient to keep us from being discovered by those keen- 
eyed savages to whom the mountains and the forests 
were an open book. 

And in this we were not mistaken, for we suddenly 
encountered a huge savage who appeared to rise like an 
apparition from the very ground itself, to dispute our 
passage of the path along which we were traveling. 

And here again a very remarkable coincidence enters 

373 



into my story, for it turned out that this immense savage 
was none other than the Sioux warrior whom I had be- 
friended on the prairies of Iowa six years before. He 
was one of the six savages whom I had found ill with 
smallpox on the prairies northwest of Adel, and to whom 
I had given the friendly aid that had apparently enabled 
the particular savage of whom I am speaking, to recover 
from the disease. I suppose the fact is I had saved his 
life, and like an Indian, he had never forgotten it. 

I would not attempt to say that any Supreme power 
had guided his footsteps to that particular spot in the 
mountains at that particular time, but it is one of the 
unusual things that cause one to inquire whether the 
Supreme Being enters into the affairs of humankind. 
Of course as to this question I have said many times that 
I do not know, and I have no disposition to change my 
answer. But in any event the savage attacked me and 
would have made short work of me but for the fact that 
at the very instant when I was in the greatest peril, the 
moonlight fell full upon my face and the savage recog- 
nized me. What followed of course is like the things 
that we read in the story books. The savage instantly 
changed from an antagonist to the most devoted friend. 
The change of course at the time was inexplicable to 
Julia King, and she could scarcely believe her senses as 
she saw the savage suddenly refrain from his attack upon 
me and suddenly do his utmost to be friendly to me. The 
gaping astonishment of the savage, when he first rec- 
ognized me, was a ludicrous thing to see, but it was never- 
theless a most welcome thing to me, for otherwise my 
scalp would have been in another instant dangling at his 
belt, and Julia King would either have shared the same 

374 



fate, or would have been carried into captivity. But as 
it turned out, the savage not only refrained from finish- 
ing as he had begun, but also did his utmost to save us 
from falling into the hands of others of his tribe. He 
conducted us safely down the mountain and after having 
had us wade up the stream for several hundred yards, 
directed our steps up the opposite mountain-side. He 
waved his hand in the direction of the opposite mountain 
across the stream and gave us to understand that it would 
be well for us to go there and keep in hiding for several 
days. 

We carried out his directions at once, making every 
effort to conceal our tracks as we went. 

We spent the remainder of the day and all the next 
night high up on the mountain-side. Julia King there in- 
formed me that when she and her companion first dis- 
covered that the Mormons and Indians were on their 
trail, that they had taken refuge in the cabin. Verona, 
she said, had discovered the trail of a trapper in the 
mountains and that they had followed the trail to the 
cabin. Evidently the cabin was the trapper's home as 
it contained a few rude cooking utensils and the fire- 
place showed evidence of recent use. The door was 
open, but no one was about. She said they had stood off 
their pursuers for two days and were unable to hold out 
any longer and had been forced from the building only 
a few moments before Jim and I arrived. 

When evening came and darkness began to settle 
down I made a bed of spruce boughs for Julia King. 
Under a big tree whose branches hung low and extended 
far from the trunk, I made her sweet-scented couch. 
When we had watched the moon rise over the mountains, 

375 



I conducted her to it and bade her good-night as my 
lovely queen. 

She also told me in great disgust, that she had not 
left the Mormon City in the company of Sir Robert, or in 
company of any one else other than the Umatilla girl. 
I told her of what Jim and I had seen at the mountain 
stream where the wagon had been wrecked and where I 
had found her trunk and some of her wearing apparel 
under the water. She said that undoubtedly Sir Robert 
and a companion of his had, when they themselves left 
the Mormon country after the murder of Judge King, at- 
tempted to befriend her by taking her personal effects 
with them. They knew that she had disappeared with- 
out taking any of her things with her, and they thought 
perhaps they would do her a favor by taking them east- 
ward for her. 

And she told me with equal disgust that she never in 
her life had entertained the slightest affection for Harry 
Lee. This of course was reassuring to me, though I had 
many times suspected that it was true. Lee, of course, 
was ever a danger and a menace to her, but so far as 
her ever entertaining any affection toward him was con- 
cerned, the matter was out of the question. 

She told me that while she feared him greatly, and 
never knew when she might encounter him that during 
much of the time while she was in Utah that Lee had 
not been there at all but had been in California and Ne- 
vada prospecting for gold. 

The thoughts that went through my mind there on 
the mountain-side would be hard to describe, but it 
seemed that the hour of victory had come. 

And it was there on that mountain-side that I thought 

37<6 



of the things of which I have heretofore told you. It 
was there that I thought of the past and of the labor and 
of the toil that had gone before, and that had preceded 
the victory. 

I have said that as I sat on the mountain-side that my 
mind seemed to go up to the very Heavens and seemed 
to be limited only by space itself, and that is true. 

My emotions flamed and burned. Sleep was out of 
the question. I could not have become calm even had 
I desired, much less could I have slept while guarding 
Julia King. She lay on a bed of evergreen boughs and 
slept serenely and beautifully while I kept watch in the 
silent night. 

For me there was no rest, no cessation of the great 
passions and emotions that glowed in my heart and soul. 
As the aurora borealis at night glows softly and beauti- 
fully in the northern sky and then flings its streaming 
banners aloft toward the zenith with now gorgeous and 
now unearthly light, so my thoughts and emotions burned 
evenly and steadily for a time and then burst forth as 
it seemed to the very limit of the vault of heaven. 

Julia King was mine. She was my very own. She 
had promised to become my bride and the thought of her 
in her beauty and loveliness as she slumbered in my keep- 
ing on the mountain-side sent my thoughts outward and 
upward to the very stars and seemingly to the limits of 
eternity. In the great silence of the night and in Nature's 
tremendous environment I contemplated the starry 
heavens while the sweet love of Julia King flooded my 
soul. She lay asleep under the dark pine trees and I like 
knight-errant of old, guarded her as a prince would guard 
a princess. 

377 



Across the valley on a plateau of the opposite moun- 
tain-side skulked Harry Lee. In the morning I would 
seek him out. I would kill him, I would have my re- 
venge. And thus my emotions rose and fell and ebbed 
and flowed. From the sweet influence of love to that of 
revenge and hate my thoughts changed and rechanged 
in rapid succession. 

Out of the shadows of the trees there seemed to come 
trooping like hobgoblins and sprites and ghouls the 
things of the past that had made me in turn a convict, an 
outcast, and in a certain sense a slave. I thought of 
them all and the pent-up fires of hate and the burning 
indignation at injustice flamed and glowed. I thought 
of the long years of wandering and the long years of de- 
feat and disgrace and failure. I thought of the dreadful 
apprehension that fairly ate out my soul when during all 
that time I thought of the possible marriage of Julia King 
to some other person than myself. I thought of the great 
wrong and injustice that had so struck at my life at the 
very outset of my career. I thought how many times in 
the past it had seemed as if there were no justice. But 
as I sat and looked up at the stars it seemed that justice 
had come. 



3?8 



CHAPTER XXVIII. 

^w^HAT a wonderful thing love is, I thought, as I sat 
vl/ there on the mountain-side. I contemplated my 
life and Julia King's. I felt that it had been fore- 
ordained from the beginning that she and I should find 
each other in this world and that we should go out of it 
together, and should be together throughout eternity. 1 
knew the first time I ever saw her that in my heart she 
was mine and that I could be happy with no other. I 
knew, that, should she, by some dispensation of fate, be- 
come the bride of another, that my heart would die with- 
in me and that like a stricken dog I would seek the seclu- 
sion of solitude and that no consolation could ever come 
for the loss. I knew that the American continent was 
nothing, so far as space was concerned, as between me 
and her. I knew that the entire world was not, and I felt 
that even centuries in the flight of time would equally be 
as nothing as compared to the fixed love that she and I 
should bear for one another. 

Then I thought of the bitter experiences I had been 
through since I had first met her, the disappointments, 
the dreadful apprehensions and the miserable humilia- 
tions. As I recalled these things I thought of Shake- 
speare's lines — 

"Love is not love, 
Which alters when it alteration finds, 
Or bends with the remover to remove; 



O no! it is an ever-fixed mark, 

That looks on tempests, and is never shaken; 

It is the star to every wandering bark, 

Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken. 

Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks 

Within his bending sickle's compass come; 

Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, 

But hears it out even to the edge of doom. 

If this be error, and upon me proved, 

I never writ, nor no man ever loved." 

And then as I contemplated the twinkling stars it 
came to me that there was a yet higher love than even 
this of which Shakespeare had written. I recalled the 
words of Paul: 

"Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors 
through Him that loved us. 

For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor 
angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, 
nor things to come, 

Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature shall be 
able to separate us from the love of God, which is in 
Christ Jesus our Lord." 

Would not this love some day envelope the world? 
Would it not raise the weak to their rightful heritage? 
Had it not, indeed, raised me to the glory that then was 
mine ? Was it physical strength, after all, or was it love 
that had won for me? And if it was strength, was it not 
love that had given me strength? And would not this 
love some day do away with injustice and sorrow and 
heartache? Would it not reveal the majesty of the spirit 
and prove its superiority over all material things? Would 
not these great American mountains and the stars that 
burned above them — would not these emblems of eternity 

3S0 



some day reveal the truth — the perfect love of Him that 
is everlasting? 

Would not this love indeed bring humanity into its 
own? But then it was that I thought of the things of 
which I have told you. Then it was that I renounced 
once for all the idea that we can assume that the Su- 
preme Being is entering into the affairs of man. As I 
have said, I have not renounced the idea that He may so 
enter in, but what I mean to say is that I have renounced 
the idea that we should to any extent relax our own 
efforts to work out our own salvation, and I have re- 
nounced the idea that we should do anything except to 
rely upon our own efforts. Of course I have said that I 
believe in both the things of the spirit and things mate- 
rial, and this implies that I believe both in the Supreme 
Being and in Humanity. I have spoken of it as a sort 
of partnership. And while of course it is the things of 
the spirit toward which we are tending, or at least this is 
true as I believe, yet here again is apparent the fact that 
we must take our own part and that we must deal pri- 
marily with things material. 

I have spoken of the days of betrothal which I en- 
joyed in Iowa after the winning of Julia King. But does 
any one believe that those days of betrothal could have 
been so enjoyed had Julia King not been superb in 
physique and in health and in the vigor of life? And 
does any one believe that it could have been so enjoyed 
had I not been in the same condition? Does any one 
believe that it could have been so enjoyed had she been 
merely a beautiful spirit in a body of pain? Does any 
one believe that life would have been best expressed in 
that condition? Or that it was ever intended by the 

381 



Creator that it should be so expressed?, 

And again there on the mountain-side I thought of the 
nature of love. It extended, as I have said, according to 
my belief, beyond the confines of the continent, and even 
into the realms of space itself, but yet here on earth how 
was the body to divorce it from the beautiful temple of 
its earthly abode, or from the health and vigor of life in 
which it at that time resided? The two of course go 
hand in hand, and it is not possible to-day to abandon 
the physical and the material as the Christian Scientists 
would abandon them, and I have extended this thought 
to national affairs believing that there is an analogy be- 
tween the affairs of individuals and the affairs of na- 
tions. Indeed how potent is the physical, material world 
as we know it to-day ! Not only in the matter of physical 
health and in the matter of physical ills and physical 
limitations, but how very potent and how very vital in 
the very perpetuation of the race itself! Few indeed, 
stop to think of the nature of love, of how, while it is an 
intangible, immaterial thing that it is also based upon the 
most primitive expression of human life. It is based on 
sex and on the physical expression of it in a way that 
few people stop to realize. It comes up out of the primi- 
tive, primeval world and surges on through the race of 
human beings in modern times in exactly the same way 
that it has since creation dawned. In this at least there 
has been no change, even in the slightest degree, from 
the time when the first human being was born. 

And thus it is that I speak of the combination of the 
physical and the material with the spiritual and the im- 
material; of how the two go hand in hand, and of how 
they guide our destiny as individuals and as nations. 

388 



Thus it is that I quote Roosevelt and hold him up as the 
high ideal of American purposes and American life. In 
him as in no other there has been the combination of the 
physical and the mental and also the physical and the 
spiritual, and expressed as it could not be better expressed 
in the article which I have quoted and which is entitled 
THE GREAT ADVENTURE. This is the world we live 
in to-day, and these are the things that we have to deal 
with. We could do no better as Americans to-day than 
to emulate Roosevelt and to carry out the policy that he 
inaugurated, and to fulfill the ideals that were his. 

But to go on with my story and my contest with Harry 
Lee and my winning of the hand of Julia King. 

As we sat on the mountain-side, my love of the out- 
door world seemed vindicated. My soul went up to the 
very stars in thanksgiving while the thought of triumph 
and of peace and of the love of Julia King enthralled my 
senses. I sat at the foot of a great tree until the ap- 
proach of dawn. I watched the stars fade and the moon 
sink from sight behind a distant mountain. But as the 
first signs of day appeared, I must have closed my eyes 
in slumber, for I awoke to find Julia King standing over 
me and smiling down upon me. My humiliation at find- 
ing that I had gone to sleep was great, but was soon for- 
gotten in the joy of my new companionship. I saw the 
sun rise over the mountain tops in the full glory of a new 
day and saw its rays lighting the countenance of Julia 
King. She was as beautiful as I had ever seen her. The 
outdoor air had given a ruddier glow to her complexion 
than I had ever seen before, but aside from that, I saw 
little change in her appearance. She had traveled far 
in the mountains, but the Indian girl had been a skillful 

3S3 



mountaineer and had provided food in abundance and 
shelter at night from the cold, and Julia King was none 
the worse for the journey. A sad and subdued look had 
come into her eye on account of the death of her father, 
but her figure, though a little thinner than usual, was 
practically the same and her beauty was unimpaired. 
She was clad from head to foot in buckskin and looked 
like a true maid of the forest and mountains. 

Marriage affords the supremest happiness in the 
world, and to woo and win is the threshold to earth's 
greatest joy. Strong and beautiful was Julia King, and 
strong and impetuous was I, and she had waited and I 
had striven for ten long years for that great joy that was 
ours that morning. 

How surpassingly beautiful to attain it after all those 
years! You who have waited long, you who have seen 
injustice triumph and wrong rule with an iron hand 
know the quality of the rejoicing that was mine that day. 
You who have suffered, you who have dedicated your 
life to a cause and who, after much tribulation and 
humiliation, have seen that cause triumph, know the 
ardor of my rejoicing. I say you who have dedicated 
your life to a cause, for in addition to dedicating my life 
to the proposition of winning Julia King, I had also de- 
dicated it to the cause of those great truths revealed to 
humankind through the medium of the outdoor world in 
the realm of Nature. I had dedicated my life to winning 
Julia King and to winning her without sacrificing my 
ideals. I spoke of these truths and Nature's part in our 
lives to Julia King. I told her I cared more for such 
things than for business, or for wealth, or for distinction 
or fame. "You know I do care more for them than for any 

3*84 



of those things," 1 continued, "for I have forsaken all 
society for six years to be in touch with them. I left 
society and you," I continued, "and I left you with those 
I loathed. I left you with those for whom I have nothing 
but contempt, with those to whom business and money 
making are life; with those to whom life is a matter of 
dollars and cents. I could have been one of them, 
though never a very successful one from their point of 
view, but I chose rather to risk all, even all my great 
love for you, rather than cast my lot with them and be- 
come one of them. Rather than become one of the drops 
in that great ocean of sordid money gatherers, I fled to 
the plains and the mountains to find my soul. And I 
have found it and wonderful to tell, I have also found 
you, and I have come to you in health and strength and 
in the grand vigor of youth rather than weak and 
wretched as the result of a makeshift life in seeking the 
things that only money brings." 

"Strange," said Julia King, "that I should have come 
into the wilderness too, and that you should have found 
me here and here sought my hand." 

"Seek ye first the kingdom of God and his righteous- 
ness and all these things shall be added unto you," I re- 
plied. 

"Do you believe we were brought together here by the 
invisible hand of Him who rules the world?" asked Julia 
King. 

"I do not know," I replied, "but at least I have won- 
dered if it might not be true." 

I then told her Nature was my everlasting friend, my 
first love and the only rival for her affections. I pointed 
at the great mountain range and as we looked at the 

3S5 



blue peaks far away in the misty distance I told her that 
I loved them as I could love no living creature, for I be- 
lieved that in loving them I was loving God. And as we 
looked at the sublime scene extending away in silent 
majesty mile after mile we became silent and gazed in 
awe at the wonderful expression of God's mighty and 
eternal power. And as we looked, a great peace came 
over my soul, a peace that I had never known before in 
all my life. It was the peace of victory, of triumph, of 
righteousness, of love. It was the peace of justice, and 
when I have said that it was the peace of justice, I have 
spoken of the only peace I know, for to my mind there 
is no other. 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

^^^OWARD noon we moved away from our position 
^^y somewhat so as to gain a more commanding view 
of the grand scenes that extended away before us. 
We sat down upon a rock that projected out a little from 
the mountain-side and from which we could get an unob- 
structed view of the plateau across the canyon where the 
log house was situated. We looked across the great 
abyss and down upon the clearing as upon a stage, and 
indeed a stage it turned out to be for as we watched a 
tragedy was enacted there that has impressed itself for- 
ever upon my mind. The sound of rifle shots attracted 
our attention, and Miss King gripped my arm and pointed 
as little puffs of smoke rose from among the bushes 
where the shots had been fired. 

"Verona" we both exclaimed simultaneously. We 
had almost forgotten her in our obliviousness to all 
things but ourselves and the blessed security and solitude 
of the mountain-side. Evidently she was being attacked 
in the cabin as she and Julia King had been attacked be- 
fore. But in this we were mistaken for in another 
moment we saw her burst into the clearing closely pur- 
sued by half a dozen men. We saw her kill one of them 
with her knife and then we saw her disarmed and 
Sutherland's huge bulk loom among the others and as- 
sume control of the situation. He waived the others 



387 



away and began threatening and intimidating the girl in 
the most insolent and insulting way. She backed away 
from him and he followed her as she kept stepping 
nearer the edge of the precipice. It became apparent to 
me that Sutherland was questioning her in regard to 
Julia King. He was undoubtedly trying to find out from 
her where Miss King could be found. Harry Lee now ap- 
peared on the scene and his appearance lent credence 
to that view of the matter. He approached and added 
the effect of his presence to the bullying actions of 
Sutherland. But as the three came in dangerous proxim- 
ity to the edge of the cliff there issued from the bushes 
at their sides a flash of humanity having the appearance 
of a painted demon. In the twinkling of an eye it had 
sunk its knife in the breast of Sutherland and with a 
tremendous effort had pushed him over the precipice. 
With a cry that I shall never forget Sutherland plunged 
into the yawning abyss. The sound of it even yet makes 
my flesh creep. His hair and clothing streamed upward 
in the wind and we saw him turn over and over as he 
fell to the rocks below. We saw him all the way down 
and saw his body lying beside the stream. 

Julia King was very white as she looked down upon 
the man who had killed her father. As she looked up 
for an instant she gripped my arm once more and pointed 
and I looked up in time to see Harry Lee fleeing for his 
life from the same image of ferocity that had brought de- 
struction to Sutherland. It was the Pawnee chief and I 
knew that Frank Perkins must not be far away. Miss 
King fairly trembled with delight as she became aware 
that my uncle and the chief were on the plateau and we 
set out at once to join them. 



For a long time we toiled down the mountain and 
across the stream and up the other side. When we 
reached the clearing the battle began again. Frank 
Perkins received a knife wound in the breast that proved 
quite serious, and when coming to his rescue I was 
knocked senseless by a blow on the head with a gun 
barrel. 

I then was dimly conscious of the approach of a half 
dozen or more yelling desperadoes and of being dragged 
into the house. I had been there but a moment when I 
became also conscious of the dragging in of someone 
else and as my senses reeled and whirled it was Im- 
pressed faintly on my mind that this other person who 
now lay on the floor at my side was Julia King. The 
thought had scarcely impressed itself upon my mind, 
however, until I became also conscious of the fact that 
she was dragged out again. I then lost consciousness 
entirely and knew nothing more until morning of the 
following day. As I woke and attempted to get up a 
heavy dull pain in my head forced me to lie down again 
and I felt the clotted blood in my hair when I put my 
hand to my head. I lay down upon the floor again and 
looked about me. Almost the first object that met my 
gaze was Harry Lee as he came out of the adjoining 
room. The situation flashed through my mind. I 
looked at the man I loathed in horror. I saw his oily, 
placid smile and the satisfied look upon his face. I be- 
came faint and sick. The room and the objects about 
me swam in my dizzy senses. I could not talk. I was 
speechless. A slight movement in the room from which 
he had come caught my ear. It was then true. Julia, 
my Julia was in that room. I recalled how I was con- 

389' 



scious of her being dragged to my side and then dragged 
away again. I was struggling weakly to rise as the vile 
Lee smiled down upon me when the door opened and in 
a moment the room was filled with his companions. I 
was kicked and cuffed and reviled by the ruffians while 
Harry Lee stood with his back to the door of the room 
from which he had come. As the boisterous talk and 
loud swearing momentarily subsided a groan sounded 
from the other room and on the instant a loud burst of 
yells and cheers burst from the throats of the vaga- 
bonds. 

Lee moved to another part of the room and I was 
wondering what would happen next when the door of the 
cabin burst open and in the twinkling of an eye 
pandemonium reigned supreme. The room was filled 
with the crash of revolver shots and smoke was rapidly 
filling the air. From the door of the room from which 
Harry Lee had come a battery seemed to have opened 
fire. A body fell across my helpless figure with a thud 
like that of a butchered steer. A wild scramble to get 
out of the house was made, but with little success. One 
burly ruffian fell dead in the doorway and another fell 
on top of him. The floor seemed strewn with dead. 
One desperado, however, managed to escape through 
the door, from which he fled to the woods in terror. 
Then only one of the band remained. A moment's 
silence succeeded the roar of revolver shots. Then a 
voice low and extremely impressive said, "Throw up your 
hands." I glanced toward the one remaining figure. It 
was Harry Lee. To my consternation I saw his hands 
go slowly above his head. Then there stepped from the 
door of the room from which the shots had emanated, a 

3'90 






beautiful female figure clad in buckskin and moccasins. It 
was Verona, the Umatilla girl. Her dark eyes were ablaze, 
the ornaments in her hair and about her person ac- 
centuated the beauty of her color and her features. She 
was lithe and strong as a panther as she stepped silently 
from the door with smoking revolver in her hand which 
she leveled at the head of Harry Lee. Her tall and 
stately figure made a beautiful and impressive sight as 
she moved slowly and silently toward the man, who, 
with ashen face held his hands above his head. She re- 
moved his revolvers from their holsters and dropped 
them on the floor. 

"Don't shoot, don't shoot," said I, "leave Harry Lee to 
me." 

I then dragged myself into the room I had so dreaded 
to enter and concerning which I had so feared to even 
think of what I might behold there. Imagine my sur- 
prise when, as I passed through the door my eyes fell 
upon the figure of Frank Perkins lying prone upon the 
floor. No one else was in the room and as my eyes 
bulged from my head and as I gradually realized that 
the thing I feared had not happened I felt a load go off 
my mind that made me happy beyond the power of 
words to describe. But where was Julia King? I looked 
enquiringly at the Indian girl. Divining my thoughts 
she dropped her revolver and drawing her knife from her 
belt flew like a demon at Harry Lee. The struggle was 
brief and in a moment more the infamous Lee lay on 
the floor with the Umatilla girl's knife in his heart. She 
disappeared on the instant and in a moment returned 
wth Julia King and the Pawnee chief at her side. Miss 
King was sound and well and entirely unharmed. I 

391 



looked my amazement and my relief as it was related to 
me that it was the chief who had dragged Miss King from 
my side as I lay in a semi-conscious condition on the 
floor of the house. It was he who foresaw at once what 
might happen if she were not quickly rescued and it was 
he who took her from the house and hid her as only an 
Indian could from the eyes of the murderous and in- 
famous ones who sought her soul. All night long he 
had kept unceasing vigil at her side. All night long he 
had endured the cold while his blanket kept from freez- 
ing the girl I adored. As we gazed speechless at the 
beautiful Julia and the no less striking and handsome 
Indian girl and at the finely chiseled figure of the chief, 
Julia King, with eyes filled with tears, took the dark, 
heavy hand of the chief in both her own and kissed it as 
she knelt at his side. 

That day Miss King informed me that she had seen 
me dragged into the log house just after I was struck on 
the head with the gun barrel. A moment after she was dis- 
covered and caught and dragged in also, but she had no 
sooner been dragged in than she was dragged out again. 
My uncle had also been taken into the little building. 
Harry Lee had pulled him into the adjoining room and 
it was while he was in that room that a pair of arms 
with sinews of iron encircled Miss King, bore her aloft 
and carried her almost before she knew it into the depths 
of the forest. A shot or two rang out and bullets 
whistled over her and for hours the w r oods were searched 
by her pursuers but she and her rescuer were not found 
and had they been it would have but meant death to the 
pursuers. She was almost out of sight of the cabin before 
she recognized the owner of the strong arms that had 

3'92 



carried her from the clutches of Harry Lee. It was my 
uncle's friend, the chief. She felt dimly that he meant 
her no harm but it was not until he had put her down 
upon a bed of spruce boughs and underneath the dark 
branches of the trees that grew within a foot of the ground 
that she began to realize that he was her deliverer. He 
produced a blanket from somewhere among the trees and 
gave it to her and though the night was very cold he re- 
fused to keep the blanket for himself. Though she did 
not sleep she was entirely comfortable and all night she 
lay undisturbed under the evergreen boughs while her 
dusky protector with shining eyes pierced the gloom in 
search of would-be capturers. When Verona stormed 
the log house in the morning and routed the whole bandit 
crew and they were seen fleeing from the premises the 
chief approached the house and was seen by the Indian 
girl. She went for him and his charge at once when she 
heard my inquiries concerning Julia King. The success 
of the Umatilla girl had been due to the fact that as she 
entered the house she had used one of the Mormons as a 
shield long enough to get to the door of the adjoining 
room and to ge^t behind the partition and shoot from the 
door. 

It was apparent that we would have to spend the 
winter right where we were. Neither my uncle nor my- 
self were in fit condition to travel and we knew that when 
we had fully recovered the season would be far advanced 
and that it would be impossible to cross the plains dur- 
ing the winter, and we much preferred to stay where we 
were than to spend the winter at Ft. Laramie, even if we 
could get there in safety. Deer and elk would, there- 
fore, have to be provided in abundance, and this duty I 

393 



intended to fulfill as soon as my wound would permit. 
My uncle's wound was such as that he was compelled to 
remain for several days upon a pile of robes in the cabin. 
We had discovered a large number of furs and robes 
which the trapper who had appropriated the cabin, had 
concealed. He, however, did not appear and the chief 
afterward told us that he had seen his body lying where 
he had been murdered by Indians and Mormons. 

While we were situated in this way, the chief was 
away in pursuit of scalps and we knew more than one 
Mormon would pay with his life for his trip to our cabin. 

Julia King and I and the Indian girl remained for 
some time at the log house. I, because of my wound and 
because of my utter inability to get my consent to leave 
the side of Julia King even if I had been sound and well, 
and Miss King, because of her desire to see that I was 
well cared for, and the Indian girl because of her great 
admiration and love for her true friend, Miss King. I 
lay propped on the rude pillows of buffalo and bear 
skins that were in the log house and passed the happiest 
hours of my life, even though my head throbbed pain- 
fully and my shoulder caused me unceasing pain. Julia 
King scarcely left my side for a moment, except to com- 
fort and console her friend over the loss of her brother. 
The Umatilla girl sat with her head covered with a 
blanket and took little notice of her surroundings. 

We had no further trouble with Indians or Mormons. 
For days Frank Perkins and I devoted ourselves to rest 
and recuperation. The chief, who had returned from his 
foray after scalps, did the hunting and plentifully sup- 
plied our larder with deer and elk meat. Summer passed 
into fall and fall into winter. It was a delightful season. 

394 



I had demonstrated my superiority over Harry Lee in 
every way. I had vanquished him in a physical combat. 
I had for him nothing but contempt. Julia King had 
seen me triumph. I was a new man, strong in my physi- 
cal and moral strength, and was no more the wretched 
weakling she had seen and known in the east and in 
Iowa. I had won, and she could not deny my right to 
say I had won and she showed no disposition to care to 
do so. She was mine alone in the mountains. I say 
alone and so we were except for our faithful and trusted 
friends and we were happy in their delightful com- 
panionship. But we were alone so far as intruders and 
interlopers were concerned and we were happy. Far 
into the night we watched the flames flying up the 
chimney into the cold, starry night. We looked into the 
great log fire in the fire place and listened to the long 
drawn wailing and howling of the wolves in the moun- 
tains, or to the hooting of owls or the scream of the 
cougars with unalloyed delight. When the wolves 
howled and the cougars screamed, however, Julia King 
always sat close by my side, and I felt the breathless de- 
light of having her come closer and closer for protection 
and reassurance. I felt no fear. I knew the chief and 
my uncle with the guns and ammunition with which we 
were provided were sufficient guaranty against all the 
beasts in the Rockies while we were living in the log house 
as we were and the long, wailing cries of the wild animals 
and birds in the clear, cold air were sweetest music to 
my soul. 

Many, many hours we spent alone by the fire when 
Verona was in her room and when the chief and Frank 
Perkins were asleep on the floor of their own part of the 

395 



house. Many, many hours we also spent in their com- 
pany as we sat before the fire during the long winter 
nights. A strange sight it would have been for anyone 
to have seen — Julia King and I and Frank Perkins and 
a wonderfully beautiful half-breed girl and a full- 
blooded Pawnee chief sitting before the fire in a lonely 
log house in the recesses of the mountains. 

Frank Perkins' wounds received careful and solicitous 
care. Verona ministered to his every want and did it so 
tactfully and modestly that it was beautiful to see. Julia 
King and I saw, as the chief did also, the tender care that 
was being bestowed upon my uncle by the Umatilla girl 
and we also saw as did also the chief that the care was 
received in the same spirit that it was given. 

The winter passed away all too quickly. The enor- 
mous piles of snow on the mountain-sides began to 
slowly settle and recede. The heavily laden evergreen 
trees began to be rid of their pure white burdens, and the 
chinook wind came booming up from the southland. My 
uncle and I had completely recovered from our wounds. 
We were making preparations for our departure. One 
morning we were standing in front of the house watch- 
ing the sun rise over the mountains to the eastward. As 
we looked, the chief came out from among the trees and 
started across the open space toward the house. As he 
did so a slight sound caught our attention and we be- 
held a Sioux chief stalking out of the trees from the other 
side of our little clearing, The two chiefs had come into 
the clearing almost at the same instant. Each saw the 
other as they came out from among the trees and each 
stopped momentarily and gazed haughtily at the other. 
Then like a flash each darted for the trees again and 

396 



almost at the same instant each threw his gun to his 
shoulder and fired. Both shots missed and in another 
moment both of the red men were advancing across the 
clearing toward each other. 

By this time I distinctly recognized the Sioux chief 
whom I had encountered the summer before and whom 
I had befriended when he was ill with the smallpox on 
the prairies of Iowa. He was my friend and I felt that 
he had come to pay me a visit before we departed, but 
I at once perceived that he and my uncle's friend were 
on the point of engaging in mortal combat and that one 
or the other would surely pay with his life as the result 
of the contest. The thought had no more than flashed 
through my brain than the two savages were locked in 
each others arms and each was striving with all his might 
to plunge his knife in the breast of the other. Up and 
down the clearing they swayed and strained and plunged 
and rolled. It was a terrific struggle. Now one would 
appear to have the advantage when it would be as sud- 
denly lost and the other would for an instant gain the 
ascendency. We watched in breathless anxiety. We 
knew that the struggle must end fatally for one or the 
other. Julia King looked on in utter distress. Her re* 
gard for the Pawnee chief knew no bounds. Her grati- 
tude to him for protecting her the night of the battle with 
the Mormons was beyond expression and her respect for 
the peculiar nobility of character displayed by him when 
giving her his blanket and placing her carefully upon 
and under the spruce boughs while he sat all night long 
in the cold was such that she felt that she could never 
repay him. For the Sioux chief she felt also the greatest 
gratitude for he had refrained from taking both her life 

397 



and mine when he might easily have killed us both. She 
wrung her hands as the warriors rose, swayed backward 
and forward, fell, rose again and rushed and struggled 
back and forth across the clearing. I, of course, was 
equally concerned and Frank Perkins no less, for the 
Pawnee chief was the truest friend he had in the world, 
but we all stood helpless without the power to lend a 
hand for either combatant. To stop the struggle was out 
of the question. The chiefs were utterly deaf, blind and 
dumb to everything about them. Only the one all-en- 
grossing question of how to slay his antagonist filled the 
mind of each warrior as he gave every ounce of his 
strength to the struggle. 

Down they went upon the ground and up again. 
Their eyes flashed fire. All the animosity and hate of 
generations and centuries of tribal warfare gleamed from 
their eyes as each one assailed his hereditary foe. Like 
a whirlwind they were now here and now there. As they 
came near us in the struggle and as we all scattered to 
get out of their way the Pawnee chief succeeded in 
knocking the knife from the hand of his adversary. On 
the instant the Sioux pulled his tomahawk from his belt 
and lifting it aloft brought it down with all his force 
upon the head of the Pawnee at the same instant that the 
Pawnee's knife sank to the hilt in the breast of the 
Sioux. Both warriors sank at our feet without a groan. 



398 



CHAPTER XXX. 

^^^HE following summer we spent in getting out of the 
^^y mountains and crossing the plains. 

When we arrived in Iowa we found that the war 
was still in progress. I at once re-enlisted and Julia King 
went on to New York. I remained in the army until the 
war was over. I then went to New York and sought out 
Julia King. I was really beginning to be happy. I had 
really begun to look the world in the face with some as- 
surance and with the feeling that I had not only found 
my own soul but that I had accomplished something. I 
went the rounds of the offices and stores of my former 
associates. Few of them recognized me at once and all 
found difficulty in believing it possible that there could 
be such a change in an individual. It was a happy time 
for me. I looked every fellow whom I met in the eye 
and clasped his hand with a grip that made him know he 
was shaking hands with a man. And in my mind all the 
time was the consciousness that Julia King was mine. 

I thought of the deserts of the West, of the moonlit 
rocks and sands and of the trip I had made alone along 
the trail with the young lady who had escaped the mas- 
sacre. No doubt I could have ended my loneliness then 
and there, but as I walked the streets of the city how 
glad I was that I had not done so. Had there been a 
thousand such chances it would have been the same. I 



399 



would have still gone on alone. For me there was but 
one and at last I had won and I had won as a strong man 
and as one worthy, to a certain extent at least, of being 
the mate of Julia King. 

What cared I for cases and offices and petty attorneys 
and the wretched business of the courts? As one thinks 
of a long sickness I thought of my incarceration in the 
prison pens of the offices and courts of law. It was a bad 
memory and I tried to forget it. Accordingly Julia King 
and I did not tarry long, but started without delay for 
Iowa. We crossed the Mississippi river where I had 
crossed it when I first came to Iowa, sick and discouraged, 
nine years before. The birds were heralding the dawn 
and the waterfowl were going north. They were mating 
and were seeking homes. Every bird, every bush, every 
leaf, every twig seemed thrilled with life. Spring was 
awakening the streams, the woods, the prairie and the 
very air. It was all so fresh and beautiful. 

We crossed the great river into Iowa and banished the 
city from our minds forever, so far as the thought of 
making it a home was concerned. I looked into the sky 
and pointed to the geese going north. "They have their 
mates," said I, "and I have mine," and Julia King did not 
deny it. 

When we reached Des Moines we found that Sir 
Robert had returned from the West and that he had mar- 
ried Vivian Butler only a few days before our arrival. 
The body which I had seen at the side of the stream in 
which I had discovered Julia King's trunk and other 
effects was the body of Sir Robert's companion and not 
that of the Englishman himself. He had escaped from 



400 



Sutherland and Lee and their companions and had re- 
turned to Iowa in safety. And when we reached Adel 
we were greeted by Frank Perkins and his strangely 
beautiful bride, Verona, the Umatilla girl. 

It was the proudest moment of my life when I pre- 
sented Julia King to Joe Burgess and my other friends 
in Iowa. I had brought her as my beautiful bride to the 
land that was henceforth to be our home. All our 
troubles seemed at an end. The race of life seemed 
over. We knew that in truth we were only at life's 
threshold but we felt that we had reached its goal and 
that we should henceforth only enjoy the things that our 
labors of the past had won for us. 

We were sitting in the doorway of Frank Perkins' 
house. The war was over. The load on everyone's mind, 
that had been carried for four years had been removed. 
The sun was shining high in the heavens. The birds 
were singing, the river flowed placidly by our door. 
Back of the house on the wide bottom land a man was 
plowing and the black soil rolled over exposing its rich, 
dark fertility to the blue sky and the morning air. 
Blackbirds and robins followed the plow and picked up 
the worms exposed to view. Peace and quiet reigned 
supreme, and prosperity and contentment were every- 
where apparent. Victory was ours. The war had been 
won. Principle had been vindicated, the right had 
triumphed and succeeding generations would inherit na- 
tional health and prosperity instead of national disease 
and disgrace and dishonor. 

"It is a great thing to be right," said Joe Burgess. 

"It is the greatest thing in the world," I answered 
promptly. 

401 



We thought of the uncomplaining men and boys who 
had gone into eternity that the right might prevail and a 
silence brooded over us. 

"But it is a great price that we have to pay to main- 
tain it," said Joe again in a low voice. 

"But who would say it was not worth the price?" I re- 
joined. "Who would say when the crisis came between 
the North and the South that the Union was not worth 
fighting for? Who would say that the flag that floats 
over the North and the South was not worth the blood 
that was paid to save it? The Union has been saved and 
we have seen its might and glory in the east and we have 
seen it in the west; we have seen it in the north and we 
have seen it in the south. We have fought and bled that 
the same flag might float over the frozen forests of the 
north, that shall float over the sunny lands of the south 
and we have given ourselves to that cause which has pro- 
hibited slavery anywhere and everywhere in all the vast 
domain. 

"And those who come after us will reap where we 
have sown. They will be able to present a united front 
to every foreign foe and they will inherit national honor, 
national health and national repose of soul. All the 
great struggles of the past culminate here, all the results 
of the world's progress have their climax here. We are 
the heirs of the ages and our children and children's 
children will receive their heritage unimpaired." 



402 



CHAPTER XXXI. 

INCE that time we have lived in Iowa and we have 
seen the changes and have witnessed the events of 
which I have spoken. Our lives have spanned a 
wonderful period; we have seen the waging and the win- 
ning of two great wars and we have seen the great struggle 
of individuals and nations toward higher and better 
things. In this great struggle as we have witnessed it 
during more recent years we have seen the two schools 
of thought develop to which I have heretofore referred. 
And I have selected the Roosevelt school as the one mostly 
likely to lead the world onward and upward. 

The prophecy of old that "He shall judge among 
many people, and rebuke strong nations afar off; and 
they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their 
spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up a sword 
against nation, neither shall they learn war any more" 
will some day come to pass, but that, day is not yet. 

The old prophecy or statement that "Ye shall hear of 
wars and rumours of wars" and that "Nation shall rise 
against nation, and kingdom against kingdom:" is the 
fact that we have before us to-day. Some day wars will 
cease; some day the crowning era of peace will over- 
spread the world. But that day is yet far off. And the 
pacifists of to-day put it farther and farther off. They 
defeat their own ends by blind refusal to see the facts 



403 



as they are. They are recreant to themselves and to the 
world. 

At Des Moines when he was last out here Mr. Roose- 
velt quoted Emerson's statement that "The most un- 
pleasant truth is a better traveling companion than the 
most pleasant falsehood." And Theodore Roosevelt 
always traveled with the truth whether it were pleasant 
or unpleasant. He chose to ally himself with the un- 
pleasant truth at the outbreak of the war and Woodrow 
Wilson chose to ally himself with the very pleasant false- 
hoods. And most of the rest of us did the same. 

Fear, overcame the judgment of most of us," and we 
succumbed to the blandishments of Woodrow Wilson, — 
blandishments which even now have been proved to 
have been without foundation or justification. Woodrow 
Wilson promised much — it might almost be said that he 
promised everything. He promised Americans, and he 
promised Englishmen and he promised Frenchmen. He 
promised Italians and he promised Japanese and 
Chinese. In fact, he promised nearly everybody in the 
world. He promised everything and everybody. And 
he promised when he knew or when he ought to have 
known that he could not perform. He promised reck- 
lessly and heedlessly and he called upon the American 
people to make his promises good. But as yet they have 
not seen fit to do so. He promised, in effect, that 
America would guarantee the liberty of the world and 
he promised it when he had not just reason to believe 
that America would do so. He guaranteed everything. 
He signed America's name, (in effect) to worthless paper 
everywhere, and he signed without authority. He says 
that America's honor is now involved and that America's 

404 



word has been given. But no ones honor but his own is 
involved and no ones word but his own has been given. 
He signed and he guaranteed. And the world ap- 
plauded. The world hailed him as the Saviour of man- 
kind. But he was a false prophet. His great and reck- 
less promises have already broken down and the impos- 
sibility of their performance is now almost everywhere 
apparent. 

But Mr. Cox in speaking of Mr. Wilson's promises has 
said, "What he promised, I shall, if elected, endeavor 
with all my strength to give." 

It would therefore appear that Senator Harding's 
charge that Woodrow Wilson had forced on Governor 
Cox the League of Nations issue as the paramount issue 
in the campaign is justified. But whether it is justified 
or not and whether Governor Cox supports the Wilson 
League whole heartedly or with "interpretations, apol- 
ogies or reluctant reservations," the league issue is never- 
the less the paramount issue in the coming campaign. 
The Democrats chose to make it such and their every 
wish should be gratified in that respect. They chose to 
make it such in the Senate when they refused to accept 
the league with reservations and they chose to make it 
such in San Francisco when they made it almost the only 
plank in their platform which differs radically from that 
of the Republicans. 

As their standard bearers they have candidates for 
President and Vice President who have espoused the 
cause of internationalism. They have Mr. Cox, who 
owned and controlled a newspaper which had what 
might, perhaps, be said to be almost pro-German tenden- 
cies at the beginning of the war. And they have Frank- 

405 



lin D. Roosevelt who has worked harmoniously with 
Secretary of the Navy, Daniels, a thing that no true 
American could do. The name of the Democratic 
nominee for Vice President may have had something to 
do with his receiving the nomination. If it did it is 
another proof of Democratic shamelessness that is com- 
parable only to the methods of the Germans during the 
war. But no clearer proof of the unworthiness of the 
Democratic nominee to receive support because of his 
name could be shown than the fact that he could work 
in harmony with Josephus Daniels. 

There was but one Roosevelt. There will never be 
another. There will never be another with such ability 
as was his, never another with such sweetness of temper, 
such poise, and yet withal such strength and such 
mastery and such power. He was America's finest and 
America's best. We should follow his example in every 
way. We should elect Senators who will follow his 
ideals rather than the Wilson ideals, and who will pro- 
tect and preserve Americanism rather than barter it 
away. Typical of the fresh buoyancy of the life of the 
new world, Theodore Roosevelt ever interpreted Amer- 
icanism to the world and he interpreted Americanism in 
its true sense. He interpreted it not only as fame, as 
glory and as renown, but he interpreted it as independ- 
ence, as freedom, as liberty, and as aggressive insistence 
upon the place that America should occupy among the 
nations of the world. He insisted upon the observance 
of the principle of the survival of the fittest and America 
having become the fittest to surive, he maintained that 
America should continue to be the fittest and should con- 
tinue to survive. 

406 



Action was one of his watchwords, and he believed 
in ever moving forward. He believed in holding one's 
own and that by thus holding one's own that one 
benefited not only himself, but the world. He sent the 
battle fleet around the world, and yet during all of his 
administration we never had a war. During all of his ad- 
ministration not a shot was fired at a foreign foe. Paci- 
fists denounced him as a seeker of blood and war, but 
pacifism in America has caused more desolate homes 
and more deserted firesides than has the vigor and the 
self-assertiveness of those who, like Roosevelt, believed 
in taking one's own part and in maintaining that part 
vigorously in the world. The great exponent of the 
doctrine of the survival of the fittest and of self-asser- 
tiveness piloted this nation through seven years of peace, 
and the great exponent of pacifism and the doctrine of 
non-resistance, was at the head of the nation during the 
greatest war the world has ever known, and during and 
in which war this nation was forced to take a great and 
important part. These things may have been the re- 
sult of accident, and may have just "happened" to thus 
come about, but at least it proves that the doctrines of 
Roosevelt do not provoke war. He sent the battle fleet 
around the world. He put the name of America in the 
mouths of the individuals of every nation, and he put the 
name of Roosevelt in every home and before every 
hearthstone and every fireside, but nowhere as a result, 
did we have a war. 

Courage was also one of his watchwords. The 
courage of righteousness and justice and not the courage 
of the bully or the overbearing. The courage of the 
truth and of righteous convictions. The courage that 

4gt 



wavers not and that commands respect and admiration. 
It was the courage that, exemplified in others, has made 
our land free, and the courage that has given us inde- 
pendence in America. Undaunted, unafraid, unhesitat- 
ing he went forward always putting in practice, in virile, 
vigorous, pulsating, throbbing activity, the words that he 
preached to America and the world. 

What will history say of Theodore Roosevelt and 
Woodrow Wilson? Where will history place these men 
so far as their respective attitudes toward the great war 
are concerned? Will the prophet of peace as exemplified 
by Wilson be enshrined in the hearts of the people in the 
future years, or will the stern advocate of a just war as 
exemplified by Roosevelt be so enshrined? I cannot help 
thinking that Roosevelt will be the one to be enshrined. 
Denounced as reactionary and out of date at the time, he 
will, in the future years, come to occupy the position to 
which he is so justly entitled. Ready, always, to pay the 
price of liberty and justice he was not a coward and the 
horrors of war never daunted his intrepid soul. He 
was a great American and he was ever on the firing 
line — ever in the forefront of his country's cause. He 
ever made his country's cause his own and he gave to 
that cause the last full measure of devotion. Again it 
seems, as Americans, we can hear the call from his 
strong, courageous soul, 

"My purpose holds to follow knowledge like a sinking star be- 
yond the utmost bound of human thought" and 

"To sail beyond the sunset and* the paths of all the western 
stars, until I die." 

And let us as Americans not only in the coming elec- 
tion but in every walk of public and private life follow 
in the paths where Roosevelt blazed the way. 

408 



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